


Tadpole's Spirit

by Draikinator



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Drowning, Gen, fan novella, im here to fix warriors as usual, major arc 2 spoilers, mapleshades vengeance spoilers, perspective tadpole, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: Sasha's third child drowns in the basement of an abandoned twoleg nest, unable to reach her outstretched paw, a breath away. He sinks below the water and out of her sight and her life forever, her bravest little kit gone, just like that.And then he wakes up.





	1. Chapter 1

When Tadpole woke, it was in darkness.

At first he couldn’t be certain why, but it took him only a moment to realize he was floating in dark water, and it all came back to him in a rush. The basement, the rain, the burst pipe and the way water filled him up until it choked out his cries for mama. Mama… mama who was still up there.

He flailed his limbs like he was just now reaching into them for the first time and beat his paws against the water to pull himself to the surface, gasping for air- only to find he wasn’t desperate for air, at all. He actually felt fine- totally fine.

Tadpole looked around. The basement was still filling with water- and the window was closed. He could see mama on the other side, with some other kittypet and Hawk and Moth. He could see the grass crumpling beneath the brutal rain and he swam towards the lip of the glass. He meant to rap against it with his paws, to tell mama he was still here, please open it again- but his paw went right through it, like it wasn’t there at all.

All the air went out of him like it had been torn from his chest, and he yanked his paw back like it had been burned, but it hadn’t hurt at all. He leaned forward and touched his nose to the glass and it went right through, like it wasn’t there at all. He couldn’t see his breath on the glass.

He was starting to breathe in short, shuttered gasps, but Mama was just on the other side of the glass, her legs shaking, staring straight ahead into the distance, and Hawk was on the ground, wailing like he was dying. Something was terribly wrong. He could try to figure out what was going on with the window later.

Tadpole hauled himself out of the water without shedding a drop and threw himself through the window, which offered no resistance. “Mama!” He called to her, but she didn’t break her broken stare. “Hawk! Moth!” he tried again. Hawk kept crying. Moth didn’t raise her face from where it was buried in his fur.

“No!” Hawk screamed, like he was being ripped open, “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, no!”

“What’s not fair?!” Tadpole cried, terrified. What could have happened that was so bad? Did he get hurt trying to get out of the twoleg nest?

“My kit,” Mama said, her eyes still locked into the distance, her voice quiet under the pounding of the rain, “My beautiful kit.”

“I’m right here, mama…” Tadpole said, hesitantly as he took a careful step toward her. She did not look down.

Tadpole reached up with one soft black paw to touch her leg, and it went right through.

He shrieked, terrified, and flung himself backward, frantic. “Mama!” He yelled, “Mama, look at me! I’m right here!” Tadpole screamed, and flung himself forward and into her waiting paws and the soft warmth of her stomach where he has always been safe, only to top through like he had flung himself through smoke.

He gasped, and gasped again, the world spinning, and he ran to Hawk to shake him, Moth to pull her away and make her look at him, but his paws passed through them like he was nothing, like he had never been there.

“Look at me!” He shrieked, “Look at me!”

“I’m so sorry, Sasha…” said the other kittypet mama had come with. Mama jerked forward, startled when the other cat touched her shoulder.

“I… I need to get Hawk and Moth out of the rain,” She said, her voice shaking.

“What about me, mama?” Tadpole asked, sniffling. Mama didn’t look at him, but stood on quivering paws and nudged Hawk to his feet. He continued to wail and sob pathetically, and moth rose to her feet, nose running and soaked to the bone.

“Please, please come stay with my and my twoleg, Sasha, even if just for tonight- you can’t just go back into the woods like this, not after you just watched one of your kits die-”

“Thank you,” Mama said sharply, cutting the other kittypet off, “But no thank you. I need to… I need to take my kits home.” She picked up Hawk in her mouth and Moth fell in between her legs, shivering and crying silently. Tadpole stepped in beside her, desperate for her warmth, but felt nothing. When he looked down at his paws, he realized that even the rain was passing through them.

“Sasha…” The other cat said, like it was a request, as Mama stumbled back to the forest, with Tadpole weaving in between her legs without her notice.

 

* * *

 

 

Tadpole couldn’t feel the soft dry leaves of his nest beneath his pawpads, but just being in their den was comforting. Moth and Hawk’s shuddering cries had eventually gone quiet as they slept, but he found himself unable to feel tired, even filled with anxiety as he was. Whether he slept or not, though, sitting beside his siblings and the steady rise and fall of their chests brought him home and grounded him, and the frantic fear was finally abating.

Mama was laying on the ground outside. She wasn’t asleep either, but she looked too tired even to stand. Tadpole was afraid to go outside and see her, and was quite content to sit in the familiar darkness of the logpile, eyeing his mama’s pink collar where it hung from a branch just over where she slept. It seemed cold now, a distant plaything he was certain that, like everything else, was beyond his reach now.

He heard a voice from outside.

Tadpole stood up and peaked out of the logpile, curiously. Mama would be mad, since they were supposed to stay out of sight- but maybe no one could see him. And if no one could see him, then he was staying out of sight, right?

The other cat was much older than Mama, but she didn't look alarmed or even upset by his presence, like she usually did when other cats were nearby.

“...A barn nearby,” the other cat said, when Tadpole was close enough to hear, “It’s warm, and safe, with plenty of food. You and your kits will be safe there.”

Tadpole heard shifting in the leaves behind him and turned to look at Hawk and Moth, who were awake, warily watching the exit to the logpile where the other cats voice was coming from. Of course, Tadpole was in front of the exit, and for just a moment, he could pretend they were looking at him.

“Come on,” he said, weakly, “Let’s go see who it is.”

He hadn't expected a response, but Hawk nudged Moth and gently they both rose and padded toward him- and then through him and out of the den. He followed, silent.

“Is it a long ways?” Mama asked, “My kits are too young to travel far…”

“We can make it, mama!” Hawk said, puffing out his chest with his usual false bravado. He had never been the brave one. That had always been Tadpole’s job.

“Even if our feet hurt, we won't complain!” Said Moth.

“Yeah,” Tadpole chimed in quickly, before Mama had a chance to cut him off, “We can make it.”

“...Do you really think you’ll be okay?” Mama asked.

Hawk and Moth nodded.

“...Alright. Will you please take us, Pine?” Mama asked.

“Of course,” said Pine, who turned and padded away. Mama gestured to Hawk and Moth with her tail, and followed after.

Tadpole froze, looking back at the logpile as they left it.

“Mama!” He said, “You forgot your collar!” He cried. Mama did not look back. Hawk and Moth pushed their way through the bushes after her, and with one last look at the only home he’d ever known, Tadpole followed his family away.


	2. Chapter 2

“I have already lost one kit to leaf bare,” Mama said, “I give my kits and I up to Riverclan.”

“Tch,” said a mean looking black cat with a sneer, “You just want Riverclan’s protection.”

“Hush, Blackclaw. She’s been through enough,” the spotted cat said. There was something different about her- he stopped listening to what they were saying and stepped across the water toward her.

The river was like ground beneath his paws when he wanted it to be- and he definitely wanted it to be. Underwater was somewhere or never wanted to be again. It felt smooth and glassy against his pads, and even it's ripples almost felt real, but not quite. He stepped round the spotted cat, tilting his head at her. She looked strange- different than the other cats.

She was… glowing. But not glowing- it was like her outline was wobbly. He looked down at his paws, and he had realized as they were travelling that he could see through himself, if only barely. He was mostly all there, but just the tiniest bit, he wasn't. This strange spotted Riverclan cat- she was like him, but the opposite. Her edges were fuzzy, like she was here and wasn't here at the same time. Actually, weirdly enough, it almost looked like, through her, somehow, he could see stars.

“Come with us,” the spotted cat said, snapping him back into reality, or whatever reality was to him now, “We’ll take you to our camp and let our medicine cat see to you.”

“Thank you,” Mama said, and Tadpole noted that it was the first time in his life- well. It was the first time he had ever heard relief in her voice.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, my little ones, but that’s who you would think she would take her vengeance on, yes?” Shadepelt croaked, her old voice rumbling with age, her eyes wrinkling with a devious smile.

“Yeah! Her leader who banished her!” Hawk said, bouncing on his paws.

“He banished her kits, but they didn't do anything wrong- he punished them for something their mother did, and that's not fair,” Moth added, and Tadpole could sense disquiet within her. She sat neatly on her paws, listening to the story. Tadpole lay between them in the sunshine where the Riverclan elders, Shadepelt and Loudbelly, were sunbathing by the river.

“Ah, but vengeance is rarely logical, and men are rarely fair,” Shadepelt chuckled, “Mapleshade vanished for moons, until we had all but forgotten her. She took her vengeance first upon the Thunderclan medicine cat-” Shadepelt paused, looked askance and then reached one paw from beneath her belly to prod Loudbelly, who was snoozing on his back, the sunshine on his belly fur. “What was his name again?”

“Ravenwing,” Loudbelly grumbled, without opening his eyes.

“Ah, yes, Ravenwing,” Shadepelt said, continuing, “For his crime of telling the truth, she ambushed him at the Moonstone while he spoke with his ancestors.”

“What's the Moonstone?” Moth asked.

“Ravenwing could talk to dead cats?” Hawk gasped. Tadpole perked up and rolled over, suddenly interested.

Shadepelt nodded, “Yes, little ones. Ravenwing was a medicine cat. Medicine cats are different from cats like you or I- they are given the gift of communing with our fallen ancestors in Starclan. The Moonstone is a place beyond our borders where a medicine cat’s ability to connect with Starclan is at it's strongest.”

“Wow,” said Hawk, “If I became a medicine cat, could I speak to my brother?”

Tadpole felt something in him ache and twist, “Just talk to me, Hawk,” he said, “I’m listening. I’m always listening.”

Shadepelt’s eyes softened, “Perhaps, little one, perhaps. But your brother may not have known the way to Starclan- not all cats go to the same stars.”

“Oh,” said Hawk, his tail drooping.

“There’s a way to Starclan?” Tadpole said, standing, “How do I get there?”

Shadepelt couldn't see him. He pressed his paws against her side and through them and she didn't answer him.

“Please,” he said.

“Where did he go, then?” Moth asked.

“Perhaps the same soft stars kittypets go when they leave this world,” Shadepelt said, leaning forward to gently lick Moth’s fur, “or the stars of rogues, full of adventure and neverending travel. I truly hope somewhere peaceful.”

“Yeah,” said Moth. Tadpole curled his tail around his legs and buried his face in Shadepelt’s clumpy fur, closing his eyes so he could pretend it wasn't going right through him like mist.

“What about Mapleshade?” Hawk asked. Tadpole didn't think he was imagining the way Hawk’s voice was shaking, but he couldn't be sure.

“Ah, yes,” Shadepelt said with a tut, “She attacked him at the Moonstone while he communed with Starclan, but still, she sought more blood for the blood of her children!”

“She killed Appledusk next, right? He treated her like garbage! If he’d have done that to me, I’da shredded him!” Hawk said, bouncing up and out of his sadness to swipe at an imaginary enemy.

Shadepelt laughed, “I believe you. Appledusk was not one of Riverclan's finest, no, but he was not her next target. Her next target was none other than Frecklewish, the daughter of Thunderclan’s leader!”

Moth and Hawk both gasped, and Tadpole followed suit.

“When Thunderclan's patrol found her, she had been bitten by a snake Mapleshade had summoned with her cunning. Frecklewish perished in Thunderclan's camp, blind and sick.”

“How terrible!” Moth gasped.

“But next, she finally set her sights on the tom who had truly wronged her: Appledusk.”

“Yeah!” Cheered Hawkfrost, slashing again, “Get him, Mapleshade!”

“Hush, you, Mapleshade is the villain of this story,” Shadepelt chided with a chuckle, batting him playfully on the head. Hawk pouted.

“I know,” he said, “but he still sucks.”

“Yes, he does,” Shadepelt agreed with a nod, “Mapleshade snuck onto Riverclan territory and attacked him, Reedshine, and Perchdusk, when he was still Perchpaw, mind you- he was Appledusk’s apprentice and eventually took his name as a warrior. She roared a mighty roar like all the cats in Tigerclan as she burst from the underbrush towards Reedshine, only for Appledusk to throw himself in the way of the blow, dying in her place!”

“Wow!” Moth cried.

“Humph,” said Hawk, “Just cuz he did one good thing doesn't make up for the bad stuff he did.”

“It does not,” said Shadepelt, “But because Appledusk perished, he never had the opportunity to make amends for his wrongs, though he regretted them in his final moments. Because of this, he joined our ancestors in Starclan and in peace, while Mapleshade is doomed to walk the cursed woods of the Dark Forest.”

“What’s the Dark Forest?” Hawk asked.

“Wait, who killed Mapleshade?” Said Moth, at the same time.

“Oh, right,” Shadepelt said, “Perchdusk threw himself on Mapleshade’s back and delivered a killing blow. She was left to wander until she could wander no further and her injuries led her to the next life.”

“But the Dark Forest!” Hawk repeated, pushing her with both his paws as he whined, “What's the Dark Forest!”

“So eager to know of evil things, little one!” Shadepelt laughed, and ruffled his ears, “The Dark Forest exists in a place where Starclan's light does not shine. It is a place where a cat exists alone with their own regrets, forever.”

“Whoa,” said Hawk, “that’s so scary!”

“It is,” Shadepelt nodded, “So don't do anything to end up there!”

“I won't!” Hawk promised.

“Me neither!” Said Moth, “I want to go to Starclan and see if Tadpole is there!”

Tadpole rolled over, away from them. He wondered if he would still be there when his siblings were in Starclan, if it was real. Would they be like him, alone? Would they finally see him? At least he wasn't in the Dark Forest. His siblings may not be able to see him, but at least he could take comfort knowing they were finally, finally safe, and happy.

Mama was happy. He'd never seen her happy before. Not all the time- but she smiled when she came back from hunting and left prey on the fresh kill pile, and that was enough. It wasn't enough. It would have to be enough.

 

* * *

 

“It is with great pride I give these two young cats their apprentice names- Hawkpaw and Mothpaw!” Leopardstar bellowed. Her voice was loud, commanding, elegant and powerful, and her outline shimmered. Maybe it was something to do with being leader of a clan- maybe he was hallucinating it.

“And Tadpolepaw!” Tadpole cried, standing beside them.

“Mothpaw! Hawkpaw!” Chanted the clan cats below.

“Mothpaw! Hawkpaw! Tadpolepaw!” Tadpole chanted alone.

 

* * *

 

“Is it true, mom?” Hawkpaw asked, his tail between his legs, his ears flat, “Did our father… did he do everything Leopardstar said?”

“It… yes,” Mama said, “He did. Your father was… complicated. In many ways, he was a horrible man. He lied to me, and he was violent, and hateful. But in many ways…” she said, softly, looking away for a moment, “In many ways, he was a good man. No cat is all good or all bad. All cats do good things and bad things, my loves- you will do things, I’m sure, that others will find reason to call you bad for.” She smiled softly, “To a fish, all cats must seem evil.”

“So he wasn't bad?” Mothpaw asked.

“...He was strong,” Mama said, “and brave, and powerful, and when he set his mind to something, no force in the world could ever stop him. These are traits I hope he gave you.” She paused, then leaned forward to lick ruffled fur on Hawkpaw’s head down, “But he allowed his hatred and his resentment to consume him and to warp his judgement. He betrayed the Warrior code and the people who trusted him. You are both so fortunate to be able to live as Warriors, to live by the Warrior Code- had your father respected that code, perhaps he would still be alive, today.”

“I won't ever break the Warrior Code, mom,” said Hawk, “Not ever.”

“I know you won't, my little warrior,” Mama smiled.

 

* * *

 

“My little warriors,” Mama said. Tadpole puffed up beside his siblings and imagined she was talking to all three of them. “I could never lie to you. I… I must leave you.”

“What?” Cried Mothpaw, “why?”

“You are nearly warriors now, and no long children,” she said, her voice shaking, “and you can handle the truth. There is no one in the clans more hated than your father. And if they discover that he is your father- the life you've built here will be in danger.”

“Riverclan would kick us out?” Hawk said, his tail drooping.

“They may,” Mama said. “They may be given no choice by the other clans.” She shook her head. “No one will recognize you- but they will recognize me. If I leave you- if I leave, no one will ever know. No one will ever find out- and you’ll be safe.”

“We won't let anyone make us or you leave!” Hawk said, flexing his claws, “not if you don't want to go!”

“Oh, Hawk…” she murmured, and pulled him to her chest. Tadpole followed and tried to ignore how noticeably smaller he was than his brother. He breathed in his mother's scent the only part of her that could teach him now. “Things are never that easy. You are brave and idealistic. But the world is never so kind as you want it to be.”

“Mama…” Mothpaw said, sniffling, “I don't want you to go. I’ll miss you.”

“I know,” Mama said. “You cannot possibly know how much I will miss you. I love you both with all my heart, with all the love I have ever and will ever have- with all the love the world has given me I love you. Leopardstar will take care of you. She knows what loyal and powerful warriors you will be. As long as she can she will keep you safe.”

“You're going now?!” Mothpaw cried. Mama shook her head sadly.

“I must. If I stay another moment- I’ll never leave.” She laughed, which was weird, because it wasn't funny.

“I… I understand,” said Hawkpaw. Tadpole didn't understand. She should just stay. He didn't want her to go. “The world isn't always kind.”

“No matter what though-” Mama said as she took a step back, “You must always be kind to each other. Promise me that no matter what, you will always, always be kind to each other.”

“I promise, Mama,” all three of them said. Mama nodded, then took one step away, looking back at them with her sad blue eyes. Tadpole felt frozen, wondering if he should follow, if he should stay, if he had a choice- she turned and bounded away across the river.

“Goodbye, Mama,” Tadpole breathed.


	3. Chapter 3

Tadpole followed Mothpaw idly as she stalked a mouse through the underbrush. He found it amusing that she was hunting a bird when the fish were so plentiful- their clanmates had no problem eating nothing else, but he suspected his sister, like him, was a bit irritated by this habit- it seemed like they took food a bit for granted, and his siblings, he knew, knew better than that. They had known the taste of hunger and weren't all too ready to taste it again.

Mothpaw’s pawsteps were as silent as his own against the bracken, and he wondered what her Warrior name would be. Surely, they were approaching the time when they would be given them.

Mothpelt, perhaps? It was a bit genetic, but he was imagining what he thought was likely, not cool. If he was thinking what would be cool, Mothblaze would be exciting, or Mothstorm. Mothfire? Mothstrike?

What would he name his sister? She leapt out from the brush and onto the bird, just as it beat its wings against the earth to escape. She snapped its neck quickly, then closed her eyes, silently thanking it for giving it's life so that she might live another day. Mothpaw possessed endless kindness, and a bold capacity for empathy he had watched grow and expand as she trained. Perhaps something softer than all those things, more empathetic.

Mothflower? No, that was too soft. She was kind, but not perhaps as nurturing as flower may imply. While her empathy was strong, that didn't mean she was unable or unwilling to show the same ferocity their mother did when that barn kitten tore Hawk’s ear- Mama had had a look in her eyes that told him with point blank reality she was willing to kill the woman on the spot for even that small slight. Moth was very much like her in that. When her kindness ran out, it was well and truly gone.

Mothstream, maybe, but he had heard that the old Riverclan leader’s daughter had been given that suffix and died very young, and it seemed like Leopardstar was still shying away from it. Mothgleam? Mothshine? Mothwhisper?

The possibilities seemed so endless, for her. He turned away, back to camp, as she sat to eat her kill. One usually would be expected not to eat while hunting, to feed the clan first, but Mothpaw was ever practical, and she knew that no one but her and Hawkpaw would really be interested in the post anyway, and it served itself better if she ate it now to keep up her strength while hunting and bring back more popular prey.

He would be given no warrior name. He had not failed to notice the way his siblings were growing so much larger than him, while he remained the same size, eternally a half starved, bony black kitten that had no place in the forest or the world at large, and yet no idea how to leave it. Why was he here? What purpose did his strange existence serve? Who had decided he should persist, in isolation?

Not him, certainly. His father may have been cruel, but Tadpole had never found that to be a trait he had in common with the tom, and surely, whoever had made the choice that he should continue in such a way must.

 

* * *

 

“I, Leopardstar, leader of Riverclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as  Warriors in turn.”

Leopardstar looked down at Hawkpaw and Mothpaw, who looked like they were vibrating as they stood beside her. They looked like Warriors already- Hawkpaw was the size of their mother, while Mothpaw towered over him, a pillar of muscle and fur. Tadpole remained as small as ever, and as bitter, too, but it was his sibling’s big day, do he smiled anyway from the crowd of clan cats below them.

“Hawkpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Leopardstar asked him.

Hawkpaw's eyes glimmered like stars, beyond excited, beyond pride, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Hawkpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Hawkfrost. StarClan honors your tenacity, your passion, and your dedication to the Warrior Code, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Riverclan.”

“Hawkfrost! Hawkfrost!” Tadpole cheered with his clanmates as Hawkfrost beamed beside his mentor and leader, closing his eyes as he basked in the flow of recognition. Tadpole was proud of him.

Leopardstar waiting for the cheering to die down before she turned to the remaining apprentice, “Mothpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” said Mothpaw with a short, but powerful nod.

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Mothpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Mothwing. StarClan honors your creativity and intelligence, your compassion and your ferocious dedication, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Riverclan.”

“Mothwing! Mothwing!” Everyone cheered. Mothwing looked almost embarrassed by the attention, but that only made Tadpole cheer all the louder. The cheers changed to both of their new names as they descended to meet the mass of waiting cats below, as full Warriors who belonged here.

Tadpole lingered by the edges.

 

* * *

 

“Psst, Hawkfrost,” Mothwing whispered. Tadpole perked up. They were alone as they lay in the Warrior Den for the first time, the sun rising over the Moors as they attempted to find rest after their long vigil.

“Hm?” Hawkfrost said, sounding only mildly annoyed he’d awoken him from restful slumber.

“I was thinking, during last night's vigil…” she said, quietly, and Tadpole snuck closer to listen in, “Did I make the right choice?”

“What?” Hawkfrost snorted, “Staying in Riverclan?”

“No, no,” Mothwing said, shaking her head, “I don't regret that at all. I mean being a Warrior.”

Hawkfrost scoffed, “What else would you be, an elder?”

Mothwing batted him across the ears, irritated, “No, dummy. A medicine cat. I… I think I’d be really good at it.”

“They'd never let either of us be a medicine cat, Mothwing,” Hawkfrost said, huffing, “You can only trust a rogue so far.”

“I know,” Mothwing said, her voice so small and sad Tadpole wanted desperately to make her feel better, “But maybe I… maybe I should have tried.”

“You know, Mudfur used to be a Warrior,” Hawkfrost said, rolling over with a big stretch, “Maybe it's not too late to at least say you asked.”

“You think?” Mothwing asked, and Hawkfrost hummed in answer, already settling back into his nest. “Thanks, Hawk.”

“Hawkfrost,” he said, sleepily, and Mothwing crawled forward to curl up beside him, burying her face in her brother's fur with a sigh. Tadpole took a hesitant step forward, and then another, and joined them, curling up against his siblings.

Sleep may have been lost to him, but he could find peace with his eyes closed, listening to their steady breathing as they slept, safe and loved, behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Yarrow!” Mothwing cried, exuberant, pointing at the leaf with her paw, “It makes cats throw up. You can use it when they've eaten something poisonous to get it out.”

“Very good,” Mudfur rumbled, “You learn very quickly, Mothwing.”

“Thank you,” Mothwing said, smiling, “Do you really think I could be a medicine cat?” She asked.

“Oh, I do. Unfortunately, it's not up to me,” he sighed. Mothwing didn't deflate, though.

“It's up to Starclan,” she said, matter of factly, “They need to know I’m worthy, that I won't let me clan down.”

“They just don't know you as well as I do, yet,” Mudfur chuckled, “But I’m sure they're watching now, and they'll make their feelings known when they choose to.”

“Then I won’t stop impressing them!” Mothwing puffed, her ears swiveling up, “Quiz me again so I can show them how much I’ve been learning!”

“Alright, alright!” Mudfur chuckled, and rolled out a plethora of leaves and berries onto the floor of the medicine den. He pointed at a small green leaf.

“Coltsfoot,” Tadpole said, dully.

“Coltsfoot!” Mothwing said.

“And this one?” Mudfur asked, pointing to a berry.

“Juniper,” said Tadpole.

“Juniper!” Said Mothwing

“And this?”

“Chervil,” Tadpole sighed, looking away.

“Chervil!” Mothwing cried, practically bouncing.

 

* * *

 

Tadpole was shadowing Hawkfrost today. He'd been spending quite a bit of time with Mothwing in the medicine den- it was new and interesting, and he could memorize different plants more easily than his tiny body could practice a hunting crouch he’d never use, which made it feel a bit more rewarding. He felt a bit like he was neglecting his brother, though, especially since he wasn’t performing his Warrior duties with his sister anymore. Tadpole suspected he may be getting lonely.

Hawkfrost was at the training hollow today with Blackclaw and Swallowtail, their three apprentices bouncing with anticipation. Tadpole felt a bit bad for Stonepaw, who was stuck in camp while his mentor had a bellyache, and Reedpaw, who’s mentor Dawnflower had moved to the nursery a few days prior, and didn't have a new mentor yet.

Tadpole tried to ignore the irritation in his gut when he stood beside his brother’s apprentice, who was already bigger than he was. She was focused, as passionate and icy as his brother, which made him a good fit to hone her natural abilities, though Tadpole thought that, perhaps, he let her push herself a bit far at times. Primrosepaw could be reckless at times.

Volepaw and Splashpaw, too. All three of the apprentices towered over him and made him feel uncomfortably tiny and frustrated. His brother was old enough now to have his own apprentice and Tadpole was stuck like this, maybe forever, and was growing to resent it more and more every day.

“Keep up, Prim,” Hawkfrost said, teasingly. He could be a harsh mentor at times, strict and difficult to please, but he liked to remind her at times that he wasn't a frozen lake. Despite his own bitterness, Tadpole couldn't help but admit he admired Hawkfrost- he would be happy to have his brother as a mentor. Not that he needed one, Tadpole knew his form was excellent even for his size, and if his paws didn't go right through prey when he touched them, he’d be an excellent hunter. It was really a shame.

“I’m coming, Hawkfrost!” Primrosepaw said, bouncing away from the other two gossiping apprentices to walk stoically at his side, her head held high and as she tried to mimic her mentor’s imposing posture. Tadpole thought she just looked silly.

 

* * *

 

Mothwing sniffled, a quiet sound she was clearly trying to hide, to not wake the other sleeping warriors. Despite all her training, despite her aptitude for medicine, Starclan had not spoken, and she remained in the Warrior Den, not quite a medicine cat, but not a functioning Warrior either, and it was visibly beginning to take its toll on her.

Tadpole buried his face in her neck fur and willed her to feel his presence, to be comforted by the knowledge he knew he she was suffering and cared, but if she could tell her was there, she didn't show it.

She continued to cry, softly, as quietly as she could, her muzzle shoved harshly into the twigs of her nest as she shook. Tadpole stood, anger rising in his chest.

“I hate you!” He yelled upward, toward Silverpelt, which lay on the other side of the reeds that enclosed the Warrior Den, “You’re all terrible! A bunch of lazy dead cowards!” He screamed. Mothwing continued to cry.

“Take me or turn me to nothing!” He yelled, “Let me go to Starclan or wherever rogues go or just let me stop existing! I hate this!” He snarled. The den was near silent. “Just let her be a medicine cat, you stupid cats! Haven't we suffered enough?! Why do you hate my family so much?!”

Silverpelt was silent.

“Ahhhh!” He screamed, as loud as he could, funnelling all his rage and his grief into his voice, for his sister’s potential, for his lost life, for his mother's silent bearing of her burdens. Only Hawkfrost seemed to have found satisfaction.

Speaking of Hawkfrost, actually.

Tadpole’s cry tapered off as he realized his brother was awake, watching their sister sob in complete silence, eyes barely creaked open, body totally still.

“What are you thinking, Hawk?” Tadpole asked him, panting, curious.

Hawkfrost closed his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out where the hell Mistyfoot's kits fit into the allegiances during this period of time. Hawkfrost becomes deputy briefly when Mistyfoot is captured by twolegs, which he couldn't have been if he hadn't had an apprentice at some point- and Reedwhisker and Primrosepaw would have both NEEDED to be apprenticed during this period, but it isn't established who their mentors even could have been, and, the most likely candidate? Hawkfrost!


	4. Chapter 4

“Where are you going, little brother?” Tadpole asked as Hawkfrost rose, utterly silent, before the sun. He cast a look at their sister, and then at the other sleeping warriors, and then slipped out of the Warrior’s Den. Tadpole padded behind him, intrigued. What could he be doing, sneaking out before dawn?

Hawkfrost kept himself hidden behind some reeds as he inspected the front of camp, where Heavystep was keeping guard, before he slipped into the water at the edge of camp and swam silently, like a fish, into the darkness. Tadpole walked on the surface beside him, inspecting his expression for any clue as to what he was up to and finding nothing.

Hawkfrost hauled himself out of the water as soon as he was out of sight of camp, and shook his fur absently, before he dropped into a quiet hunting crouch, stalking the first floor.

Maybe he was hungry? He could have taken something from the fresh kill pile. Restless, perhaps? But then why avoid the guard? It wasn't like going out at night was forbidden. If he wanted to go hunting earlier, he would have been allowed.

Tadpole only became more curious as he watched Hawkfrost stalk right past sleeping nice and an oblivious thrush. He wasn't hunting. No- he was definitely hunting, but the question was, what was he hunting?

Tadpole yelped, startled, as Hawkfrost leapt forward suddenly, his claws stretched wide as he snatched a moth out of the air and slammed it onto the ground.

“A moth?” Tadpole asked, craning his neck forward to examine the thing, “What do you want a moth for?

Hawkfrost pulled his paw away and tilted his head to the side, inspecting his catch. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and picked it up gently, delicately, in his mouth, and turned back towards camp. He slunk back in the way he came, careful to keep his catch above the water, and finally, when he stepped inside of camp, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon, he stopped in front of the medicine den. Tadpole could hear Mudfur gently snoring inside.

Hawkfrost blinked, slowly, before he dropped the dead moth on the ground, and placed a paw on one wing, tearing it from its body. He picked up everything but the wing and retreated back to the edge of the water, throwing it in. He looked back at the moth’s wing.

The moth's wing… Mothwing. Tadpole felt realization dawning over him like the sun itself. He was taking a sign for Starclan- he was taking care of her.

Tadpole felt light as a feather, and his mother’s words echoed back to him.  _ Promise me you will always be kind to eachother _ , she had said.

Hawkfrost retreated back to the Warrior’s Den and curled up in his nest, pretending to sleep. Tadpole followed him inside and sat beside him.

“You’re a good brother, you know,” he whispered in Hawkfrost’s ear, “Sometimes I wish I’d saved myself instead of you and Moth, and I wonder if that makes me bad. But I’m glad I saved you, Hawk. You’re a good cat.”

Tadpole curled up beside his brother, and they both pretended to sleep for awhile longer.

 

* * *

 

“Hawkfrost, Hawkfrost!” Mothwing called as she raced across the camp and into him, her paws landing solidly against his chest and sending the pair tumbling in a heap onto the dry reeds.

“Great Starclan, Mothwing- what is it!” He asked, scrambling to escape her bear hug and right himself again. Tadpole smiled, despite himself. Hawkfrost knew exactly why she was so excited!

“Starclan sent a sign, Hawkfrost! They chose me! I’m going to be a medicine cat!” Mothwing was elated, her yellow eyes bright with glee.

“Pfft,” Hawkfrost scoffed, pulling himself away from her paws, “I didn't think for a second you wouldn’t be. Took those dummies long enough to see what was right in front of their whiskers.”

“Oh, Hawkfrost,” Mothwing said, sniffling, teary in her ebullience, “I’m so happy!”

 

* * *

 

“Mistyfoot, Mistyfoot!” Primrosepaw called, bounding over to the Riverclan deputy, “Come look what I caught!” She beamed, her creamy violet grey fur soaked and dripping.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Mistyfoot chuckled, following her bubbly kit to the fresh kill pile. It was smaller than usual, with fish becoming scarcer for reasons no one understood, and every piece of prey mattered, now.

Primrosepaw pointed at a particularly large cod sitting on top of the pile, “I caught that today! All by myself!”

“All by yourself?” Hawkfrost rumbled. Primrosepaw jumped, sending water spraying everywhere. Tadpole looked down at his chest as a splatter of it passed right through him, then back up.

“Well! I had a little help. But I caught it! I really did!” Primrosepaw said, turning back to her mother.

“I know you did,” Mistyfoot smiled.

“You better watch out,” Hawkfrost said, as he moved to retrieve a fish from the fresh kill pile, “She’ll be having your job, soon enough.””

“Hmph,” Mistyfoot snorted, dismissively, “We all know you’re after my job, Hawkfrost.”

“What can I say?” Hawkfrost chuckled, the large cod in his jaws as he turned away, “You’ve got me pegged.”

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Primrosepaw,” Hawkfrost called, “Stay focused. You’ll scare off all the prey on the forest with the way you're running about.”

Primrosepaw slunk back to Hawkfrost’s side and away from the berries she’d been sniffing.

“Sorry, Hawkfrost,” she said, chided, “But what do I gotta know how to catch birds for, anyway? There's always fish in the river.”

Hawkfrost shook his head, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the fish have been vanishing, recently.” Primrosepaw looked horrified, “Twolegs have been doing something to the water, and the fish have been dying. But as long as you know how to hunt anything you can eat, your clanmates won't go hungry.”

“Is that why we’re hunting today, instead of training like you told Mistyfoot we would be?”

Hawkfrost looked a bit embarrassed, “Yes. She underestimated the food shortage, and she doesn't think we need to be teaching apprentices to catch land prey.”

“Well, if it counts for anything, I think you’re right, Hawkfrost!” Primrosepaw said, “Even if I never have to eat a bird, there's nothing wrong with knowing how to catch one!”

“I lucked out in getting the smartest apprentice, then,” Hawkfrost laughed gruffly. Tadpole wondered if Hawkfrost was remembering hunger pains like he was, the suffering that came with starvation.

Tadpole followed as Hawkfrost taught Primrosepaw the proper way to catch mice, who could feel your heartbeat when you got close, and squirrels, who would dart for trees. Primrosepaw failed to catch both, though she certainly tried her best.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Hawkfrost said as yet another mouse darted into the underbrush, “Just keep trying. You’ll get it.”

Primrosepaw snorted, frustrated and embarrassed. Tadpole knew she had quite a bit of pride, and hated to fail, especially in front of her mentor or her mother. Without another moment of hesitation, she darted off after the mouse as fast as her little legs would take her.

“Primrosepaw, come back!” Hawkfrost cried, startled. Tadpole kept pace with Hawkfrost as he scrambled to keep up with her. “Let it go, Primrosepaw!”

But Primrosepaw did not let it go, and kept up her pace, tearing through the forest, until Tadpole’s ears swivelled up when he heard her cry out in alarm.

Hawkfrost surged forward at the sound to catch up with her, dipping into a ravine of orange-grey clay and roots, and found his apprentice face to face with a snarling fox, digging out a burrow in the ravine.

“Primrosepaw!” Hawkfrost yelled, and she snapped her head back to look at him, just as the fox leaped forward onto her with a territorial yowl “No!” Hawkfrost screamed, and threw himself on the fox.

“Hawkfrost!” Tadpole cried, feeling a new kind of useless. His brother sunk his jaws into the fox's neck, but it's thick fur was clearly making it difficult to get a grip. The beast’s jaws were clamped down shut on Primrosepaw and it was shaking her like a piece of prey, her little limbs going wild.  Hawkfrost dug in with his claws, before he sunk his teeth directly into the fox’s face.

It released Primrosepaw with a howl, and she went rolling away, before collapsing in a heap in the mud. Hawkfrost clung on as the fox shook, and Tadpole ran to Primrosepaw.

She wasn't moving, laying completely still in the dirt.

“Primrosepaw… wake up, Primrosepaw…” Tadpole whispered, his voice shaking.

Primrosepaw started glowing.

Tadpole took a step back, startled and confused, as the outline of her shook and wobbled, and then a second Primrosepaw rose out of her own motionless form, like a reverse shadow, glowing.

“Who are you?” Primrosepaw asked, staring straight at him.

Tadpole stared at her for a moment, in confusion before she cocked her head at him, and he realized she was talking to him, “Wh- you can see me?” He asked, bewildered.

She nodded, “Are you… are you here to take me to Starclan?” She asked, seeming as confused by his presence and he was.

“I-” he said, when his attention was thrown back to Hawkfrost, who cried out in pain as he was thrown by the face and slammed, back first, into a tree and went still at the bottom. “Hawkfrost!” He cried, darting away from Primrosepaw and to his brother.

He was trembling and coughing, so still very much alive, but that blow had really hurt him.

“Get up, Hawkfrost!” Tadpole yelled, as the fox, bleeding from its face where Hawkfrost had shredded it, stalked forward to attack again. He glanced back at Primrosepaw, who was walking upwards, as if she had found a hill to climb he couldn't see, towards the sky. He could see Silverpelt in the distance, even though it was daytime.

“Wait!” He cried after her, “Don’t go without me!”

But she didn't seem to acknowledge him, and he looked between her and his brother and the fox, and he yelled at Hawkfrost again, “Get up, you idiot, you’re going to die! Get up!”

Hawkfrost pushed himself shakily up, hissing at the fox as it approached, and Tadpole thrust himself in front of his injured brother, staring the creature in it's hateful eyes, and screamed.

It stopped.

Tadpole’s legs were shaking, and it felt like he was about to find out if he still had a heart because it might beat right out of his chest- the fox stared at him. Not through him, not at Hawkfrost behind him- it stared directly at him, at his eyes.

Tadpole screamed at it again, pumping all his fury and his anger and very real fear into his voice, and the fox took a step back, before, entirely unceremoniously, it turned and ran off into the woods.

A few moments later, the border patrol burst through the underbrush. Had it just heard reinforcements approaching when he hadn't?

Tadpole turned back to Primrosepaw and looked at the sky where she had been climbing to the stars, but she was gone, and the sky was clear blue once more.

 

* * *

 

Tadpole was curled up in the corner of the medicine den, feeling thoroughly cried out, tailed tucked over his nose, while Mothwing changed the cobwebs on Hawkfrost’s injuries in silence. The only who spoke was Mudfur, who occasionally offered Mothwing guidance in choosing an herb for a salve.

Tadpole looked up when a shadow covered the light of the Den’s entrance. It was Leopardstar and Mistyfoot.

“Hawkfrost,” Leopardstar said, her voice taught and strained as she approached him, “What happened?”

“I took Primrosepaw out hunting,” he said, and he sounded like he’d already rehearsed this in his head, “She chased after a mouse, and ran into a fox. It had her before I could get to it.”

“I see,” Leopardstar said, revealing nothing. “I’m glad only that I didn't lose two cats today. Focus on your healing. I don't want to see you outside of the medicine den until Mudfur gives his approval.”

“Yes, Leopardstar,” Hawkfrost said hoarsely, staring blankly forward at nothing. Leopardstar turned and left, leaving Mistyfoot behind.

“Don’t think I’m so easily forgiving,” Mistyfoot hissed, the second her leader had left, and Tadpole jerked up, startled, at the sudden turn in her tone, “It’s my daughter we’re sitting vigil for now. You shouldn't have been in that part of the forest. If you’d told me where you were going, I would have told you that we had scented a fox there yesterday. You were reckless, and stupid.”

“I know,” Hawkfrost said.

Mistyfoot’s lip twitched, and Mothwing backed away, cowed, as Mistyfoot stepped forward to lean in close, “This was your fault.” She hissed, before she turned and left without another word.

“I know,” Hawkfrost repeated.

“You did your best,” Mothwing consoled, putting a paw on Hawkfrost’s shoulder. Tadpole watched Mudfur’s eyes darken in sympathy, before he stood, and left the medicine den. Tadpole stood up and sat next to his brother and sister and imagine he could feel their hurt like water washing over him.

“And it wasn't good enough,” Hawkfrost hissed.

“She’s with Starclan, now,” said Mothwing, “and I’m sure that they’ll t-”

“ _ Starclan _ ,” Hawkfrost spat, like it was a curse word, “There’s no such thing. She’s just dead, like Tadpole.”

Tadpole flinched, like he’d been struck. It had been a long time since he’d heard his name spoken.

“You mustn’t think that, Hawkfrost,” Mothwing said, “Starclan is real. I’ve seen them- after they left the sign, I-”

“They didn't leave a  _ sign,”  _ Hawkfrost snarled, “there’s no one watching over us, Mothwing. It's time to grow up.”

“...What do you mean, Hawkfrost?” She asked, her voice tense.

Tadpole put both his paws on Hawkfrost’s muzzle, as if he could will him to be silent, “Don’t tell her, Hawkfrost! Not now! Not like this! Don't take this from her! You're just mad!”

“That stupid moth wing?” Hawkfrost laughed, though it looked like laughing hurt, “That was me.”

“What?” She asked, and she looked like all the breath had been wrenched from her by force.

“I went out before everyone was awake,” he said, still wheezing, “I caught a moth, and left it right over there! It was so easy. No stupid dead cat from Starclan picked you, I did.”

“You… you didn't…” Mothwing whispered, and she moved her paws against the ground like she had to catch herself lest the weight of this information send her tumbling.

“Life sucks, Moth,” he said, turning away from her to face the wall, “It’s time to get used to it, like Mom did.”

Mothwing ran from the den like she was being chased, and Tadpole couldn't even find the strength to go after her, and retreated back to the Warrior’s Den to rest alone in his usual spot to cover his face with his paws and pretend he didn't exist.


	5. Chapter 5

Tadpole stared at the water, the way it rippled around the rocks as it flowed, cool and clear. He had no reflection on its surface, which only frustrated him further. He could see only clouds where he should see himself.

Was he an adult? He didn't feel like one. His siblings were adults now. They were bigger than he was, they had jobs and friends and responsibilities. And he was just… a tadpole, forever. 

He turned away from the water.

 

* * *

 

 

Tadpole had just finished counting the leaves in the medicine stores for the thousandth time when Mothwing woke up. He’d taken to spending evenings in the medicine den, even after Hawkfrost had returned to the Warrior’s Den when his injuries healed enough to allow him to do so. He’d become bitter and antagonistic over the past few days, and Tadpole hated seeing him like that.

He turned as his sister rose from her nest beside Mudfur and stretched, unsheathing her claws and baring her teeth in a yawn. Tadpole wondered, suddenly, if she looked like their father. She certainly didn't much resemble their mother- that was Hawkfrost, who may as well be a clone of her cast in darker fur. Mothwing was bigger, bulkier, blessed with muscles she didn't even use and brilliant tabby stripes he lacked. 

Mothwing stood and looked back down at Mudfur, who was wheezing in his sleep, then padded away without waking him. He was getting older and more tired, and she was taking on more and more duties as a medicine cat. He was proud of her, even while envied her.

She walked out of the den and to the fresh kill pile, then frowned when she found it empty. She looked around, confused, then called out to Reedwhisker, who looked equally so as he lingered by where the fresh kill pile should be.

“Why isn't there any food?” Mothwing asked, “Is the morning hunting patrol not back yet?”

“I don’t think a patrol went out,” Reedwhisker said, visibly uncomfortable, “and I can't find Mistyfoot anywhere.”

“That's weird,” said Mothwing. She went to the Warrior's Den and looked in, then checked the elder’s den. “This isn't like her…” Mothwing mumbled.

Tadpole frowned.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“I say this now, before my clan, that until Mistyfoot returns or until his death should she not, Hawkfrost will be the new deputy of Riverclan!” Leopardstar roared from atop the stone that towered over her den. Cats cheered his name, but Tadpole could hear whispers from he sat at the back of the crowd.

“A rogue, deputy of Riverclan?” Heavystep snorted under his breath, which made Tadpole curl his lip and walk away.

“Making her own apprentice deputy…” Reedwhisker mumbled, a little more fairly.

Tadpole looked up at Hawkfrost from where he was standing on the Highrock. He wasn't looking at his clanmates, but at the sky, his chest thrust proudly outward. He had recovered now from his injuries, and looked to have forgotten them entirely.

He sat down beside Mothwing, who was silent.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hawkfrost, we should talk,” Mothwing said gently. Hawkfrost looked back at her and curled his lip.

“You hid that Thunderclan apprentice from me,” he snarled, “I could smell her.”

“Hawkfrost-"

“You hid her from me!” He snapped. Tadpole shrunk behind Mothwing, away from his brother’s terrible fury. “You lied to me! Me!”

“You lied to  _ me _ !” She cried, her voice thick with hurt, “You  _ faked _ a sign from  _ Starclan _ !”

“I lied to you  _ for  _ you,” he hissed, the fur along his spine prickling. Mothwing tucked her tail between her legs. “You wanted to believe it and I let you! Because I’m a good brother!”

“Hawk, that was a horrible thing to do, you-”

Hawkfrost spun around and slammed her into the ground with his forepaws. She gasped in surprise as she hit the ground.

“Hawk _ frost _ ,” he snarled. Tadpole turned and ran, unable to watch any more.

 

* * *

 

 

Tadpole had not been out of Riverclan territory since the day he had first stepped in with his mother. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew the territory like he knew the backs of his paws- really the only part of himself he could get a good look at at this point anyway, though he could see through him- and it was the only thing that felt real to him.

The stars were beautiful, though, as they shimmered down on him and Riverclan’s medicine cats as they traveled. The half Moon had come, and Tadpole’s curiousity about the Moonstone had finally overcome his fear of the unknown.

Even still, he hesisted when they approached the edge of their border with Windclan. Neither Mothwing nor Mudfur paused, even though Mudfur was trudging so slowly Tadpole wondered if he shouldn't have stayed in his den. Mothwing was subtly allowing him to lean against her, keeping him steady as he stumbled on.

He winced as he crossed the scent line, as if ghostly Windclan warriors might burst from the brush at any moment to shred him for trespassing, but they didn't. And anyway- you weren't supposed to stop any cat on their way to the Moonstone, right? 

He laughed, out loud, the only sound that broke the silence, and it sounded strange to him. Mothwing and Mudfur passed over the Moors and met with Barkface, a cat even older than Mudfur, who was waiting for them near the Windclan camp. Tadpole could smell them- many cats, as many as in Riverclan’s camp, but with Windclan scent. He briefly considered leaving the party to go see it, but a wave of fear that he might not be able to find his way home again overcame him, and he continued to walk beside his sister.

“Good to see you, old timer,” Mudfur rasped. Barkface chuckled, a throaty sound that made the thin fur along his spine shake.

“And you as well, young man,” he snorted back, cheekily. Mudfur laughed with a breathy cough and Mothwing had to pause to keep him from falling.

“I think this may be my last visit to the Moonstone,” he rumbled. 

Barkface was silent a moment, before his long tail dipped down to brush against Mudfur’s consolingly. “I expect you to meet me here, dead or not, old friend,” he said after a moment.

Tadpole felt like the air had been knocked out of him and he stared up at Barkface in awe. How could he talk about death like that, so casually? Was he so confident that he would still see his friend when he was dead? How could he be?

“What?” Mudfur snorted, “You think I’m going to waste my time with you when I’m in Starclan’s hunting grounds?”

“Oh, you can be certain if you aren't here when I come to see you I’ll track you down and drag you back to Mothermouth kicking and screaming,” Barkface laughed, “Dying is no excuse for not doing your job!”

“Bah,” Mudfur said, but he seemed in far better spirits than he had on the trip up, “Just because you’ve decided to live forever doesn't mean we all want to work forever. I’ve earned my rest, you old coot.”

“That you have,” Mudfur laughed.

They passed through what Tadpole thought was horrific destruction on the way there, toppled trees and freshly churned earth, but no one mentioned it, and he wondered if it was usually like this.

“Littlecloud! We’re over here!” Mothwing called gently, and Tadpole looked up at the little Shadowclan medicine cat as he stood up from where he had been sitting a ways away and came to meet them.

“Good evening Mothwing, Mudfur, Barkface,” he said politely. He didn't look like what Tadpole had been expecting a Shadowclan cat to look up- he was small, soft, fluffy, pale brown with darker spots and a white belly. He looked like a regular cat, and not like the massive terrifying monsters he'd been led to believe they were. 

“Is Leafpaw here yet?” Mothwing asked. Tadpole looked back at her.

Littlecloud shook his head and Tadpole cocked his head curiously at his sister when she seemed to deflate, disappointed. 

“What was that?” He said, teasingly, “Who’s Leafpaw?”

Mothwing glanced back the way they’d come, and then the four cats set off again. They reached a mass of strange looking stones and an opening into them, where Mothwing helped Mudfur lay down, and the other two cats sat and began chatting quietly. Mothwing watched the treeline anxiously.

A grey cat and a brown tabby with a white face and belly appeared from a shaking bush and Mothwing lit up like every star in the sky as she ran to meet the Thunderclan medicine cats.

“Oh, Leafpaw!” She said, bubbling, “I was worried you wouldn't make it!”

Tadpole watched her, intrigued. She had been depressed since Hawkfrost had told her he had faked the sign with the moth’s wing- quiet, distant, introverted, but suddenly she was alight again.

“We almost didn't,” Leafpaw confessed, “But I’m glad to see you. Sorry we’re late.”

Mothwing smiled at her.

“Come on then, now that we’re done waiting on me,” the grey cat chirped, “Starclan waits for no cat.”

Littlecloud fell in step with Leafpool as they stepped into the darkness. Again, Tadpole hesitated, frightened of the unknown, but his sister’s smile encouraged him, and he followed her down the winding path into the earth.

When he saw light again, it was brilliant and blue, a massive crystal that caught a thin stream of light from a crack in the ceiling and cast it around the cave like it's own cyan stars.

The medicine cats circled around it and lay down.

“Sweet dreams,” Mothwing said teasingly with a lilting smile to Leafpaw, who laughed, and then touched her nose to the stone, and closed her eyes.

The other medicine cats did the same, all going still and silent.

Tadpole stepped forward to mimic them, when Mothwing opened her eyes and sat up, looking at the crystal. Her expression had changed from the lightehearted, happy one she’d been but a moment before, and she stared at the stone like she had stared at their mother when he’d died.

“What's wrong?” He asked. Mothwing didn't answer him. Mothwing curled up, shoving her nose into her side and covering her face with her tail.

He stared at her, confused, but she was silent, though she wasn't asleep. He looked back at the stone, then approached it, and sat down like the others, touching it with his nose.

It was cold. He didnt go through it, though- he could feel it. It was solid.

Tadpole recoiled in alarm, then laughed giddily and put both his paws on it, feeling it's smooth icy surface against his pads.

“Can you hear me?” He called, “My name is Tadpole!”

There was no answer, so he sat back down, pressing his nose against the stone and closing his eyes once more.

Nothing happened.

He scrunched up his face, willing something to happen, anything.

“I’m here!” He yelled, eyes still shut, “I’m right here! Come on! Primrosepaw, can you hear me?!”

“Are you lost, little one?” an unfamiliar voice purred behind him. 

His eyes snapped open and he whipped around to find the voice’s owner. It was a she cat- huge, with rippling muscles and ginger fur with black patches and dark eyes. He could see right through her- but she wasn't glowing like Primrosepaw had been.

“Who… who are you?” He asked, uncertainly. The ginger cat approached him, and he could see she left black, ichorous pawprints whereever she stepped.

“A concerned mother,” she responded, sitting beside him and tucking her tail around his legs, “Have you lost your way, child?”

“I… yes,” he said, staring up at her, wide eyed, “I don't know where to go.”

“You poor thing,” she murmured, and leaned down to lick his ears consolingly. He could feel her tongue on his fur. She was real. She could touch him.

Tadpole threw himself into her side and buried his face in the stranger’s fur, so touch starved he couldn't bear it, and she wrapped herself around him like a protective mother, burying him in warmth and safety. He was hyperventilating.

“There, there, kitten. It’s alright. You’re alright,” she said, licking his fur down. It felt just like it had when Mama had groomed him, but that had been so very very long ago.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-” he wheezed, irrationally, like she might disappear at any moment. He didn't know what he was apologizing for.

“You mustn't be, little one,” the ginger cat soothed, “You owe no one an apology. You've done nothing wrong.”

“I must have,” Tadpole sobbed, “Why would I be here if I hadn't?”

“Starclan abandoned you,” she whispered, “Despite your clan blood, no one came for you. You were given no stars to walk, no kittypet heaven, no rogue adventures, no Starclan hunting grounds. You have been wronged so much, and you deserved none of it. You've been brave, Tadpole.”

“I- you- how’d you know my name?” He sniffled, looking up at her. She was watching him with soft, motherly eyes. Protective.

“I am… acquaintances with your father.”

“My father…?” he asked, “Is my father in the Dark Forest?”

She nodded.

“You…” Tadpole breathed, almost not daring to say it as he recalled Shadepelt’s old stories, “You’re Mapleshade, aren't you?”

“I am,” she said, eyes glittering, “And how did you know  _ my _ name?”

“Oh, uh, I…” Tadpole felt strangely awkward all of a sudden, “A Riverclan elder used to tell scary stories about you. She said you killed a bunch of cats. Is that true?”

“It is,” she said, simply. “Like you, I had been wronged.”

“I…” Tadpole said. He felt like he should stand up, hiss, demand she leave- she was a killer and she was from the Dark Forest! A terrible place to be… but she was being so kind to him, so gentle, and her fur was warm…

“I’m sure you were told the Dark Forest is a wretched place to be,” she said, “But it's not as bad as all that. The company could use some improvement, but it merely feels like the forest at night. Quiet, and still.”

“Are you… are you asking me to go with you?”

She nodded 

“To the Dark Forest?”

She nodded again.

“Will I… will I have to meet Tigerstar?” He asked.

“Not if you don't want to,” she said, “That's the nicest thing about those woods- if you do not want to be found, you never will.”

“I… why are you being so nice to me?” He asked, “What do you want?”

She tucked her tail around him, covering his front paws, “Did that elder tell you why I took my vengeance on those cats?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “She said your kits drowned.”

Mapleshade’s eyes softened and her lips twitched for a moment, as if in pain, “I cannot watch a kitten suffer.”

“I drowned, too,” he said, but he wasn't sure why. It felt odd to say out loud, to tell someone else.

“I know,” she said, “I can smell it on you. It must have been awful.”

“It was terrible,” Tadpole confided, “It hurt so bad. And then no one could see me and I didn't know what to do…”

“Hush, hush little one, you’re alright now..” she soothed when he began to shake, near tears. “I’ll take care of you. Come with me. You don't have to be alone anymore.”

Tadpole looked at Mothwing, her nose shoved into her side. He looked back at Mapleshade, and stared at her. He searched her face for cruelty, for malice, for the telltale signs of a liar, and was almost frightened when he found none. He swallowed, a heavy lump in his throat, then nodded.

She smoothed his fur back again and stood, her tail still wrapped protectively around him.

“Come then, my little Tadpole, let me take you home,” she purred, and stepped into the wall of the cavern on the opposite side of the glittering stone.

Tadpole cast one last look at his sleeping sister, and then, without any further hesitation, followed the Dark Forest cat into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Tadpole wasn't sure when the darkness had left his eyes, but he found himself looking down at his paws and through them at dark grass and soft, marshy black earth. He looked upward at the sky, and it was a deep slate blue, like midnight with no moon or stars. It felt… lonely.

Mapleshade’s tail was resting lightly on his shoulder, guiding him in the dim light. He wasn't sure where the light was coming from if it wasn't the sky- it struck him with an odd surprise that the lightsource was him and his guide, and that they were both dimly glowing from within- though he was noticeably brighter.

“It’s dark,” he said, though it was a statement of the obvious.

“It’s peaceful,” Mapleshade responded, “with plenty of trees to climb and unending forests to explore.”

“I like climbing trees,” Tadpole said, feeling a bit better about the whole thing. He loved climbing, but the trees around the woodpile he had called home were short, and he had always wanted to climb higher. After he had died his paws had troubling sticking to trees without going straight through them. That could be fun.

“And when you feel like it, I can train you!” She continued.

“Train me?” Tadpole asked.

“Your brother and sister have become Warriors, have they not? I can teach you everything they learned, so that you can be a Warrior, too! Even stronger than they are.”

“Really?” Tadpole asked, bubbling with excitement, “I’ve been practicing! Whenever their mentors would show them a new move I would do my best to learn it, too.”

“That kind of passion proves you have the potential to surpass them,” she stepped into a clearing with tall, soft grass and moss, “You will learn quickly.”

“And when they're dead, too, I can show them I’m just as good as them!” Tadpole cried, excitedly, before something occurred to him and his fur bristled along his spine, “Unless.. unless they go to Starclan… and then I never see them again!”

Mapleshade turned and rubbed her side to his, warm, comforting, motherly. “No worries, my heart,” she reassured, “Hawkfrost has been training here with your father for some moons yet. He will join us when his time comes.”

“He has?” Tadpole asked, surprised.

“He has!” Mapleshade said, smiling, “He is a passionate young Warrior with the potential to be great, as well.”

“Huh…” Tadpole whispered. He wasn't certain how he felt about that- he would see Hawkfrost again, be able to speak to him again and hug him again but he would be in the Dark Forest forever…

But Shadepelt had been wrong about how terrible the Dark Forest was. It was quiet, and dark, but he wasn't alone.

Mapleshade had laid herself down in the tall grass and he curled up beside her, buried in her fur, and put his head on his paws.

He wasn't alone. He had Mapleshade.

For the first time in moons, Tadpole slept.

  


* * *

 

"You need to keep your unsheathed when you jump, Tadpole!” Mapleshade chided as she dipped out of the way of his leap, “You’ll never get the grip on the ground you need when you launch, if you don't!”

Tadpole landed on the dark grass, panting, “But I don't want to hurt you when I land,” he said, uncertainly. Mapleshade sighed and smiled, trotting forward to lick his ears.

“Don't worry about that, my love. You won't hurt me, I promise. I want to make sure that in a real fight, you can rely on your training and your muscle memory- and if you sheath your claws in practice, you may forget and sheath your claws in a real fight.”

Tadpole mulled that over while she licked the tuft of hair on his head flat. “That makes sense,” he said, “I’ll do better this time.”

“Oh, I know you will,” she purred, and swished away to take her place a foxlength away, where he was supposed to land.

He unsheathed his claws.

 

* * *

 

“Mapleshade!” An unfamiliar voice called, “Where are you!”

Mapleshade’s head shot up and her lip curled over her fangs. “Ugh, what now?” She swished her tail around Tadpole, ushering him behind her. He peeked out to see, curious. He hadn't seen any other cats here since he'd stepped into the Dark Forest.

“Have you seen Tigerstar? I stopped for a nap and he walked away-” from behind the thorn filled thicket, a tom emerged, grey-black and laces with intricate darker stripes. He was short furred, lean and small, and he had long scars across his throat.

“Darkstripe, why would I even care where Tigerstar was?” Mapleshade sighed, “I can’t stand him, and much less I can stand you.”

“Don't be that way, Mapleshade, you've been here longer than me, you're better at navigating,” he whined, trotting up to her, before his whiskers twitched. “Hang on- you aren't alone. Who’s that?” He leaned around her side to peak at Tadpole, who cocked his head at the stranger curiously.

“Hardly any of your business,” she said, stepping forward to make him step back. Darkstripe sat down and licked his front paw in a show of non-aggression, which seemed to placate her some.

“I’m only curious,” Darkstripe said, “Not often we get new cats this way.”

“My name is Tadpole,” Tadpole said.

“That's not a clan name,” said Darkstripe, putting his paw down. “How did an outsider end up here? Mapleshade?”

“He is a clan cat,” she snarled, “And a young warrior.” Tadpole swelled with pride at her words.

“Hey, sorry, sorry, geez,” Darkstripe said, lowering his head.

“I could get a clan name,” Tadpole suggested, “You could give me one, Mapleshade.”

Mapleshade’s ears swivelled up, and she turned to look at him, eyes large and full of wonder. “Would you like that, little one?”

Tadpole nodded, “Yeah. Yeah! I want a cool warrior name. Something really powerful.”

“Hm,” said Mapleshade, flicking her tail in thought, “this must be considered.”

“What about Darkpaw?” Darkstripe asked, “He’s pretty dark.”

Mapleshade cast him a sour look, “No.”

“Aw, does it have to be an apprentice name?” Tadpole asked, deflating a bit.

“You haven't yet completed your Warrior training, my sweet,” Mapleshade purred, “and praise unearned has no value. Your Warrior name would be meaningless if you hadn't truly earned it, wouldn't it?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed. Darkstripe nodded in agreement.

“Darkstripe, if you must be here, why don't you test my apprentice’s combat skills?” Mapleshade stepped away, and Darkstripe stood, shaking himself off.

Tadpole stood, excited to try out what he’d learned on a cat other than Mapleshade for once.

“Remember, Tadpole, claws unsheathed,” Mapleshade reminded him. Tadpole nodded, and let his claws sink into the earth.

“Nightpaw, perhaps?” Mapleshade mused as Darkstripe launched himself at Tadpole with a yowl.Tadpole was prepared for him to try to overwhelm him with their size difference, though, and darted forward so he was behind where Darkstripe landed, and dug his claws into the tom’s hind quarters, hauling himself on his back.

“Duskpaw? Shadowpaw? Blackpaw?”

Darkstripe reared up and threw himself backward, crushing Tadpole against the ground with his weight. Tadpole yipped in shock as all the air went out of him and scrambled against the earth to free himself, wriggling away, and Darkstripe rolled quickly away. Tadpole panted, trying to regain his breath, then darted forward again, below Darkstripe, sinking his claws into his belly above him.

“Bonepaw? Bloodpaw? Strikepaw?”

Darkstripe raised a hind leg and kicked him out from beneath him, but Tadpole sunk his teeth into Darkstripe’s leg and clung on like a vice, and Darkstripe skipped away, howling as he tried to free his leg. He swung hard and Tadpole finally let go, skidding away on all fours.

“Ugh, Shadepaw, maybe?” Darkstripe suggested.

"Flattery is so unbecoming on you,” Mapleshade said dryly.

“No,” said Tadpole, “Shadepaw. I like that.”

“Do you?” Mapleshade asked, her voice intensely curious.

“Yeah,” said Shadepaw, flicking his tail. Mapleshade smiled.

 

* * *

 

“Everybody here knows me,” said Darkstripe, and Shadepaw nodded, “So as long as you stick with me, you’ll be safe.”

“Sure, Darkstripe,” said Shadepaw, as the brush parted and opened into a clearing where a number of cats were milling about, sitting in small groups and speaking to one another.

“Hey, Snowtuft!” Darkstripe called. A white cat with a scar running from his ear and through one eye all the way to his belly turned to look at them.

“Shut up, Darkstripe,” said Snowtuft, dryly.

“Hm,” said Darkstripe, flicking his tail in annoyance, “He was always a jerk. Don't worry about him, Shadepaw.”

Shadepaw looked at Mapleshade, who was making her way around the edge of the clearing to a large rock that jutted out dangerously and precariously high. He sat down beside Darkstripe, and looked around at the other gathered cats. He wondered if his father was here- would Tigerstar recognize him? What did he look like?

Mapleshade rose to the peak of the stone, a brilliant orange flame atop a dark mountain. “Alright, you worms!” she roared. All the other cats were silent immediately, and turned to look at her. “It's the night of the new moon, and time for our own gathering. Are there any new recruits?”

“I am!” Shadepaw called, like Mapleshade had told him to.

“And who are you?” She yelled back.

“Shadepaw!” He roared, as loud as his tiny voice would carry.

“Shadepaw!” The crowd yowled into the dark night, a chorus that filled him with pride, and he puffed out his chest, holding his head high.

“Any other news to report?” Mapleshade called, changing the subject. The cats at the gathering turned back to her.

“The clan cats have left the forest,” a patchy grey Tom announced, “They’re travelling to the lake.”

“Hm,” said Mapleshade, “took them long enough. For now, keep your claws off of them. It's no use antagonizing them now; they need to get to the lake and assert themselves before it's safe for us to move the plan into phase two- if the clans fall apart now, it’ll do us no good at all.”

There was a murmur of disappointed, frustrated agreement. Shadepaw wondered what plan she was talking about.

“Keep your eye on them, and if you must go down there, stick to individuals, and for star’s sake, don’t kill them. You're going to be dead forever, you can be patient a few moons.”

There were groans, but no one challenged her. Shadepaw was impressed.

“Riverclan’s medicine cat is dead,” the grey cat piped up. Shadepaw felt his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat- not Mothwing, surely?

“Which one?” asked a massive brown tabby with dark stripes and crisscrossed scars over his whole body.

“Mudfur,” said the grey tom. “Your little girl is safe, Tigerstar.”

“Shut up, Thistleclaw,” the brown tabby snarled. Shadepaw felt his legs quivering as he stared at the cat he realized now was his father, “I don't care a mousetail for that spineless coward, and you know it. She's useful though- her lack of faith in Starclan could be the key to destabilizing Riverclan, and the rest of them. She’s very close with Thunderclan’s apprentice medicine cat, remember.”

Thistleclaw rolled his eyes, “No one cares about your obsession with Firestar’s kin, Tigerstar.”

“Are you trying to provoke me, you snivelling insect?” Tigerstar snarled as he rose to his feet.

“Get him, Tigerstar!” Darkstripe cheered.

“Shut up, all of you,” sighed Mapleshade, “You can kill each other on your own time.”

Tigerstar and Thistleclaw grumbled, then turned away from each other, retaking their seats. Shadepaw hid behind Darkstripe, hoping Tigerstar wouldn't look too closely at him. Did he really not care about Mothwing at all? Not even a mousetail?

“Unfortunately Tigerstar is correct. Riverclan losing faith in Starclan is in our best interest. We want to cut them off from their favourite dead ancestors, but not disband them. Keeping them in one place is in our best interest for now. If that's everything, then we can all return to our own miserable afterlives.”

The other cats at the gathering all grumbled and stood, turning away from one another.

“Are these meetings usually this short?” Shadepaw asked.

“This is one of the longer ones,” Darkstripe snorted. “Tigerstar! Hey, Tigerstar!” He called as he stood and bounded toward Shadepaw’s father. Shadepaw didn't move, watching the brown tabby with trepidation. To not care… to not care at all?

He waited until Mapleshade approached him and licked a tuft of fur on his head flat, before heading the opposite direction into the trees with her.

* * *

 

Shadepaw flicked his tail beneath him, claws sunk into the bark of the branch he was waiting on, watching from. He thanked his lucky stars- though they may not be his biggest fans anymore- for his black belt that must surely be helping him blend in with the dead tree in the darkness of the forest.

Tigerstar waited on a stump, his ears flicking with impatience, and nodded with a grunt when the ferns parted, and Hawkfrost stepped out. Shadepaw’s breath caught in his throat. Hawkfrost was right there. His brother was right there. If he went down there, he could talk to him. For the first time since he died.

He was about to drop from the branch with the ferns shook again, and another cat stepped out. A tom, a brown tabby with broad shoulders that looked like a younger, less scared version of his father. Shadepaw paused, confused. Who was that?

“It’s good to see you again, Brambleclaw,” Tigerstar said, gruffly, “Hawkfrost. How was the journey?”

“Long, and difficult,” said Hawkfrost, “We lost several.”

“The weak must be weeded out,” said Tigerstar. Shadepaw’s skin crawled beneath his fur, “The clans are only as strong as their weakest link.”

“Of course, father,” said Hawkfrost.

Brambleclaw looked less certain. Shadepaw felt nauseous. Did Hawkfrost really think that?

“Some of them were apprentices, or kits,” said Brambleclaw.

“Unfortunate losses,” Tigerstar said, though he didn't appear to find it unfortunate at all, “but in this world, only the strong survive. That is why I want my sons to have every advantage of strength I can give them.”

“Right,” said Brambleclaw, staring at the ground.

Shadepaw’s whole world spun like a top. _Sons_ ? Brambleclaw was his _son_? He had two brothers? Was Brambleclaw his Mama’s son? No- he looked older than Hawkfrost, he couldn't be- who was this cat? A growl rose in Shadepaw’s throat and he leapt from his branch back the way he had come and into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Shadepaw shoved his nose into the thicket, trying to find Mapleshade's scent. She had to know what was going on. She would tell him. It would all make sense when Mapleshade explained it.

He caught her scent against a branch and tore off, following it like a wild animal. He was a wild animal! A Warrior, like his brother, and his sister, and his father, and his Mama!

“...Of course, then, it won't be too difficult to keep them here when they kill each other, and at that point it’ll be too-” Mapleshade’s voice stopped abruptly as he bounded out of the thornbush and into the clearing. She was sitting with a cat he recognized from the new moon gatherings, a brown tabby with clumpy fur and a crooked tail.

“Shadepaw, my heart,” she said, standing, “are you alright?”

“Tigerstar-” Shadepaw panted, “Does he have another son?”

Mapleshade looked surprised and the other cat looked amused.

“Yes,” she said.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asked, shaking his head.

“I didn't think you would have wanted to know,” she mewed. She stepped forward to lick his head fluff. “You didn't seem much of a fan of Tigerstar, and Brambleclaw is not Sasha’s kin.”

“Who’s is he, then?”

“A Thunderclan Warrior named Goldenflower,” she soothed, “You’ve never met her.”

“But he’s- he’s still my kin, and if- if he-” something processed in Shadepaw’s mind, like gears turning slowly, “Wait. What were you two just talking about?”

Mapleshade’s tongue stopped, and she paused, before leaning back.

“Now that the clans have settled into their new home,” she said, “We’re moving into phase two of our ultimate plan.”

“What plan?” He asked.

“Starclan has wronged you as greatly as they’ve wronged the rest of us,” she purred, “Our ultimate goal is to tear down the barriers between the Starclan and The Place of No Stars and the realm of the living.”

“Oh,” said Shadepaw, furrowing his brow, “What’s… what's phase two?”

“Phase two is to train living cats as our own apprentices, to encourage them to join our side in the coming days.”

“We can do that?” He asked, “Visit living cats?”

“We can bring them here,” she nodded, “and once we’ve convinced them to join us, we can get the upper hand in the war.”

“War?” Shadepaw repeated.

“A war we’ll win, my sweet,” she reassured.

“But a war-” he said, backing away, “Are we- are we at war with Starclan?”

Mapleshade eyed him for a moment, like she was reading him, before she spoke, “Yes, we are.”

“That seems… that seems wrong. Why would we want to be at war with Starclan?”

“Have they not wronged you, my heart?” She asked, stepping away from the tabby with the crooked tail, who turned and headed away from them both, “They abandoned you. Left you to rot, alone. They have kept their paradise walled off from those of us they believe don't deserve it.”

“I… I mean, yeah, I’m mad about that- but it sounds like you’re saying we’re going to kill people over it, and-”

“Shadepaw,” Mapleshade said, sternly. “This is your destiny. We are going to take our own justice. Even if we have to kill to do it.”

“I… I don't like that,” said Tadpole. “I don't want anyone to die.”

“They don't matter,” she purred, “only you matter. Only we matter.”

“....No,” he said, taking another step back, “Killing is wrong. I know how terrible dying is. I don't want to do that to anyone else.”

“Shadepaw,” Mapleshade said again, more firmly. She stepped forward. Tadpole took a step back.

“Don't call me that,” he said. Mapleshade looked stricken.

“Don’t be afraid, my love,” she said, stepping toward him again as he backed away, “You know I would never hurt you.”

“But what about everyone else! I have a sister and a Mama and- and clanmates! In Riverclan!”

“You don't need any of them,” Mapleshade soothed, “You have me.”

“Mapleshade…” Tadpole whispered, ears flattened against his skull.

“It’s okay, Shadepaw, just let Mama take care of you. I promise, I’ll make everything okay.”

“You _aren't_ my Mama,” said Tadpole, his mouth dry, “I’m not your son- I’m not an apprentice- I’m not a child! I’m a Warrior, and I’m the same age as Hawkfrost, and I don’t belong here!” He snarled, unsheathing his claws. He turned and bolted into the darkness through the ferns.

“ _No!”_ Mapleshade shrieked behind him. He could hear her tearing through the brush after him, barrelling through the forest. Tadpole dug his claws into the earth, trying to get as far away as he could. He ducked through fern tunnels and fallen logs where his small size would give him an advantage, little shortcuts that took him further and further from her frantic, panicked shrieking, until he could no longer hear it at all.

He collapsed, panting, gasping for air, as paradoxical as it felt. Did he have lungs? Did he need air?

Where was he?

Tadpole looked up. He was in some kind of clearing. He turned around- and behind him was a brilliant, shimmering pool that reflected the light of the full moon and Silverpelt with all it's stars. It cascaded through tiny pools in the stones to the bottom, where it lapped gently at the stone shore.

He sniffed the ground, and recognized a scent, as familiar as his own.

Mothwing had been here.


	7. Chapter 7

Tadpole padded back and forth across the stone edge of the water, sniffing the ferns for his sister’s scent. It was faint, but present in the little alcove, along with other cats. They seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place them. He followed Mothwing’s scent away from the water, but lost it quickly. He stood in the tall grass, feeling lost again, before he shook his head with a growl.

He was not a child. He wasn't going to stand around like a lost kit without his mother. He took another step forward, towards the treeline, only to catch a whiff of one of the familiar scents he didn't recognize. It was a cat, in any case, and probably a cat that had been with Mothwing. Better to go somewhere wrong than go nowhere.

He took off after the trail, and the scent grew stronger and stronger as he made his way deeper into the woods. The forest was thick with undergrowth here, like what Thunderclan had looked like from across the river. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about his pelt getting caught on brambles.

The scent itself became mingled with others, and at first he thought perhaps he was just projecting- he had just been thinking about how this forest reminded him of Thunderclan, but no. It was the smell of Thunderclan!

Tadpole took off, bursting with joy to see living cats again, even if they couldn't see him, even if they weren't Riverclan.

The ground fell out from under him as he burst through the brush with a startled yelp and into the gorge below as his paws took him right over the edge of the cliff. He hit the ground and kept going, bathed in darkness, and he panicked, clawing at the world like he was drowning all over again. When he struggled back to the surface he lay tightly coiled like a snake prepared to strike, panting.

He looked up.

This had to be Thunderclan’s camp. There were cats everywhere, in every den, sleeping quietly, except for the guard on duty at the entrance in a tunnel of thorns. He saw what was clearly the apprentices den, and then the elder’s den- and then the warriors! He stood, exploring with intrigue. He had never been to Thunderclan's camp before, or Thunderclan at all. He didn't know there was such a place in the forest, with so much stone.

Was Brambleclaw here? They were kin… brothers. Tadpole had another brother…

He poked his head into the Warrior's den and glanced around. There were plenty of sleeping cats here, but only one was giving of an aura of black fire.

Tadpole tucked his tail between his legs. The fire was silent, and didn't seem to bother anyone else near it, but it screamed of the Dark Forest and Tadpole found himself frightened of that. The brown tabby encased in it must be walking there in his dreams. Had Hawkfrost been encased in that same darkness while he slept in Riverclan? Had Tadpole simply not noticed, or was his ability to see the Dark Forest’s influence new?

Tadpole withdrew from the den, unsure what to do.

He didn't know how to get to Riverclan from here. He had no idea where he was. If he could just find Sunningrocks he could find his way from there, but… no, that was it! If he just waited until day time, surely they would send a patrol to Sunningrocks and he could just cross the river from there in Thunderclan, burning with curiousity to know their names.

 

* * *

 

The first cat out of their den was one of Thunderclan’s medicine cat- the brown tabby that Mothwing was friends with, Leafpaw. Tadpole followed her, intrigued, as she yawned and stretched and trudged to the fresh kill pile, poking at it with a look of frustration. Tadpole thought it was strange she was picking from yesterday’s prey- and that no dawn patrol had gone out hunting. Perhaps Thunderclan didn't do dawn patrols for some reason.

Leafpaw plucked a stale looking mouse from the pile and retreated to the medicine den. Tadpole tilted his head when she paused at the entrance, tail down, before she turned away and returned to the center of camp to eat her breakfast. Had she had an argument with her mentor?

Tadpole poked his head into her den and looked around, but it was empty. What happened to that grey cat?

When he turned around, Warriors were slowly beginning to filter out of their own den, stretching and yawning in the early morning sun. An orange cat came and sat beside Leafpaw, licking her ear wordlessly. Sadness clung to their fur like morning dew, thick and heavy and uncomfortable beyond words. Tadpole looked away and searched for the Thunderclan deputy, who would be assigning patrols. He knew who it was- a cat named Greystripe, he was Feathertail and Stormfur’s father. They talked about him plenty. 

Tadpole had never met Greystripe, but he was a big, fluffy grey cat. Thunderclan appeared to be in fairly short supply of those- he thought perhaps he might have found him at one point, he found a fluffy grey cat, but when Tadpole moved closer, he realized he knew him- it was Stormfur. What was he doing here?

Brambleclaw emerged from the Warrior’s den with a sigh, looking around the clearing.

“Okay…” he said, awkwardly, “uh, alright. I’m going to do the border patrol. Any volunteers?”

“I’ll take out a hunting party,” snapped a thin furred grey cat with dark spots who was glaring at brambleclaw from the other side of the clearing.

“I’ll join Brambleclaw,” said the orange cat who was sitting with Leafpaw. The grey cat who had spoken glared at her.

“I’ll go with Brambleclaw, too,” said Stormfur.

“Cloudtail and I will go with Ashfur,” said a ginger she cat missing half her face. Tadpole had come to be familiar with such scars in his time in the dark forest, but found himself wondering how this cat could have faced such an injury and survived.

“Dustpelt,” said a sand coloured cat from behind him, “fancy a hunting trip with me?”

Tadpole listened intently as they divvied up tasks amongst themselves, waiting to hear the word Sunningrocks, but it never quite came. He found himself becoming frustrated- what was going on with these cats? Who was deputy? Why weren't they doing anything logically? Weren't they going to patrol Sunningrocks?

He sat down by the ruined fresh kill pile in a huff. Thunderclan was terrible. One more monstrous brother dredged from the aether only to torment him. He’d lost his only source of real interaction so he could go home to his clan and his sister and he was stuck here with these idiots.

He wondered where Thunderclan’s legendary leader, Firestar, was. Apprentices returning from their first gathering would speak of him in awe, and say that he glowed in the moonlight like a burning ember that could burst into a raging inferno at any moment. Tadpole took that to mean he was probably orange.

He wondered if Firestar would have that odd glowing quality to him that Leopardstar did. If he didn't, he wasn't sure how he would recognize him unless someone else called his name. No one had said the name of the orange cat that had left with Brambleclaw earlier, but that had been a girl- Firestar was a boy, right? Tadpole suddenly wasn't certain. She hadn't been glowing, but he couldn't be certain that was truly something about being clan leader and not just something Leopardstar did for some reason.

Leafpaw stood, leaving her uneaten mouse in the fresh kill pile, and retreated to the medicine den. Uncertain what else to do with himself, Tadpole followed her. She sniffled like she might cry as she collected some mouse bile and took it to the elder’s den. She had regained her composure by the time she entered.

“Leafpool?” A voice called. Oh, dear. Tadpole had been calling her by her apprentice name this whole time.

Wait. How long had he been gone?

“Hello, Goldenflower,” said Leafpool, setting the stick of mouse bile down, “I’ve come to clean you of ticks.”

“Isn't that an apprentice task, sweetheart?” asked Goldenflower. Tadpole recognized the name- Mapleshade had told him she was Brambleclaw’s mother. This cat had loved his father once. What was she to him? Not a mother, but mother to his brother… a strange thing, for a fatherless ghost.

“I’d rather stay busy than delegate,” Leafpool admitted with a sad smile. Goldenflower’s eyes softened. She was plump, and old looking, but under the softness of an elder’s skin he could see rippling muscles and a myriad of scars. She was nothing like his mother, who had been soft and hardened herself as the world became cruel around her. Goldenflower seemed built for the cruelty of this world, made to withstand it. He envied her.

“I understand,” she said, “Mousefur and Longtail are sleeping in today, but I’ve got this awful tick on my shoulder I’d love to see gone.”

“Of course,” said Leafpool, as she got to work.

“You know,” sighed Goldenflower softly, after s moment of comfortable silence, “when Tawnypelt left to join Shadowclan, and I didn't know where she had gone or if she was safe, it felt as if my world was crumbling around me.”

Leafpool flinched, violently, pinning her eyes back as she froze.

“Please,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Just a moment, dear,” she continued, “But when I knew where she had gone, I felt at peace. Of course I miss her- she's my daughter, how can I not? But she pursued what made her happy, where she felt she was meant to be. I have always wanted that for her.”

Goldenflower turned, and licked Leafpool's ear in a motherly fashion, “Don’t let anyone tell you where you’re supposed to be. Follow your heart. But next time, let us know first.”

Leafpool glanced away, keeping her eyes cast at the ground. She finished combing Goldenflower’s pelt in silence, then picked up with stick coated in mouse bile and left the elders den without a word.

Tadpole had no idea what Leafpool had done to earn that talking to, but he had gained one important piece of information.

He had a sister in Shadowclan.

 

* * *

It had taken him some time to decide what to do, since he didn't know how to get to Shadowclan, either, but had concluded the best course of action was to wait for the coming half moon, follow Leafpool to the Moonstone, and then follow Littlecloud back. It was possible he could find his way there himself, but he’d already lost his proverbial way once and he wasn't particularly excited to do so again.

It was only just as he’d arrived at this conclusion, that Leafpool burst forth from her den like a panicked rabbit and barrelled straight up the cliff face and into a den.

It was such a strange thing to do, and his first instinct was actually to duck inside the medicine den and see if a fox hadn't appeared there in the night and tried to eat her, but it was empty, and he padded back out and hauled himself up the side of the rock. Cats had begun to emerge from their dens, as startled as he was.

Just as he had pulled himself onto the ledge, a brilliant orange cat like a lit flame passed beside him and stood over the crowd of cats below.

“The time has come to name ThunderClan's new deputy. I say these words before the spirits of our ancestors, and Graystripe's spirit, wherever it may be, may hear and approve my choice. Brambleclaw will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

The cats below erupted in argument, something about apprentices, and rules, but Tadpole felt like he was drowning all over again. He took a step back, over the side of the ledge and spun out of control until he went through the bottom of the gorge again and let the darkness wash over him. Brambleclaw was going to be deputy of Thunderclan. He was plagued by evil brothers and a hollowness in his stomach that made him hate Thunderclan and every stupid cat in it that thought it was a good idea to make Brambleclaw their deputy.

And worst of all, Firestar wasn’t glowing.


	8. Chapter 8

Tadpole stared at his paws while he walked, following Leafpool from her den. He tried to ignore the way blades of grass and twigs passed through him, though it made his lip curl and his stomach churn. He had no presence. He may as well not exist. 

Leafpool was quiet as she padded through the brush, back along the route he had remembered coming in the first place. Even his bitterness could not sour his mood when his sister appeared across the top of the moorland and quickly crossed it to meet with the Thunderclan medicine cat.

“It’s good to see you,” Mothwing said. Her eyes were soft and kind and for a moment, Tadpole could pretend she was talking to him.

“It’s good to see you,” he and Leafpool said at the same time. Tadpole closed his eyes and pretended she wasn’t there.

“I missed you while you were gone,” Mothwing said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I missed you, little sister,” Tadpole said. “I shouldn't have left.”

“I made a mistake,” said Leafpool, “It will never happen again.”

“It will never happen again…” Tadpole echoed.

The two cats stepped away from him, towards the little cove with the glittering water. Mothwing’s tail waved gently behind her, her ears perked forward and her muzzle stretched in a genuine smile. Even a few feet away from him, she seemed an impossible distance away, as if she stood on the far precipice of a cliff across a canyon just barely too wide ever too leap.

He waited alone by the entrance until Kestrelflight and Littlecloud appeared and Tadpole realized that not only was Mudfur not here, like he had heard in the dark gathering, but Kestrelflight had come alone, without Barkface as well. His stomach turned again.

It felt strange to mourn these old men he had never known. He had known them, though, in a way- he had met them, and spoken to them. But they didn't even know he existed. It felt surreal to think of them as dead, when even still in this thirteenth hour he wasn't sure he knew what that even meant.

It took him nearly an hour to work up the courage to enter the little cove and look at the sleeping medicine cats. He expected to see something impressive- glowing cats or glittering moonlight shadows that indicated they walked with Starclan, the way his brothers were consumed in dark fire when they walked the place of no stars, but there was nothing. Cats in a circle in front of cold water.

He turned and waited by the entrance.

When the pale sun rose over the crest of the horizon he heard the medicine cats stirring where they lay. Mothwing rolled over like she’d had a restful night’s sleep, while the others stretched tired limbs like they had been running in their sleep.

He waited patiently for their goodbyes, before Littlecloud touched noses with Leafpool, then turned and left back to Shadowclan, and Tadpole rose to his paws.

It was odd to note the Shadowclan medicine cat was starting to look old, too. Tadpole had never seen him with an apprentice, and he wondered if there was a reason why, and if Shadowclan would be okay without one.

He wondered also what Shadowclan would look like- was it really such a terrifying place, filled with ice hearted cats who ate kits as fresh kill?

Tadpole eyed Littlecloud suspiciously. He doubted he would be able to eat a kit if he wanted to.

The trees slowly phased away from oaks and yews and into spindly pine trees that gave off an acrid scent that burned his nose. He wondered how Shadowclan cats hunted in a forest like this- but, he supposed, the scent probably covered the hunter’s smell as easily as the prey.

The Shadowclan camp was nothing like he expected.

As he stepped through the thorn bush behind Littlecloud, a gaggle of giggling kits ran straight through him and kept going, bounding over one another as they raced around the perimeter of the hollow. The camp looked…. Normal. Like a home. Not his home, but someone's. Elders lay basking in the sun, kits romped and played, warriors we're sharing tongues over morning fresh kill in the early dawn sunlight.

Which one was his sister? Her name was Tawnypelt, so, presumably, she was tawny. What did tawny even mean, though? Golden, maybe, like her mother?

Tadpole let Littlecloud continue walking away as he investigated. There was a scarred white cat with a black paw picking a toad out of the fresh kill pile- he must be Blackstar, the leader. Tadpole remembered hearing stories about him in Riverclan, and about how he had been Tigerstar’s ruthless deputy who had murdered Stonefur, a Riverclan deputy who had died before he was born. Tadpole shivered. Blackstar was bulky, a clearly old cat but still bound by rippling muscles and a criss crossing of old and new scars that made it clear he was not one to be trifled with.

He wasn't here looking for Blackstar, though, he was here looking for Tawnypelt. Both of his brothers had betrayed him, betrayed their clans and their homes and their kind- evil cats that walked the path of the dark forest, like he had.

Mothwing had done no such thing. Mothwing didn't deserve her lot, and neither did their mother. Perhaps it was just the boys in their bloodline who were cursed.

None of the cats milling about the thicket were golden, so he poked his head into the warriors den, and saw several cats still snoozing past the dawn patrol, but still, nothing gold. In the elders den, he found a battle scarred grey tom alone, and the apprentices den was equally as barren.

Perhaps she was brown, like their father? Like their brothers? There were brown cats around. A brown cat with a small grey apprentice passed him, but it was a tom. On the other end of the clearing, standing guard by the entrance was a long, pale brown she cat- his ears perked up and he bounded over to her.

She was watching the forest beyond the thicket wall through a break in the thorns, and she looked bored. Tadpole could sympathize- he’d spent most of his life bored.

He was just starting to think this cat must be his sister, when a tortoiseshell cat stepped through the entrance and, with a short nod, said “Good morning, Tallpoppy.”

Tadpole flicked his tail in annoyance, but bounced to his feet when Tallpoppy smiled and returned the nod, before saying, “Good morning, Tawnypelt.”

Tawnypelt continued on toward the fresh kill pile, swishing her tail in a sleepy way and he bounced on his paws as he trailed behind her. She was a pale tortoiseshell and white cat with blue-grey and sunshine yellow patches of fur that crisscrossed her pelt like a song. Her coat was long and warm looking and she had a face like Goldenflower’s. She didn't look anything like their father!

“Good morning, Blackstar. How's the toad?” Tawnypelt asked as she plucked a thrush from the fresh kill pile.

Blackstar grunted, “Delightful.”

Tawnypelt chuckled and retreated with her thrush to the warriors den, where she stood at the entrance and mewed.

Tadpole loped after her and poked his head into the warrior’s den, just as a ruddy, brown-ginger cat emerged and walked through him, stretching his legs and yawning.

“Why do you always wake up me so early?” asked the tom. Tawnypelt chuckled and rolled her eyes at him, playfully batting at him with a paw as he stepped forward to lick her muzzle affectionately.

“Why do you always sleep so late?” She countered, “Go grab something off the fresh kill pile and join me for breakfast, Rowanclaw, I want to get a head start on the marking the border today.

“Blackstar will hate to hear that,” Rowanclaw scoffed, and strode towards the center of camp.

“That's why I didn't tell him!” Tawnypelt laughed as he left. She picked her thrush back up and found a warm spot where the sunshine filtered through the canopy and cast a pale gold shape on the forest floor, pulling apart feathers with her claws to keep them out of her mouth.

Rowanclaw returned shortly with a lizard and sat beside her, their pelts touching. Tadpole observed them eat quietly for a moment. He felt… relieved. He had expected her to be evil like his brothers, or miserable, like their other sister, but- here she was. She seemed happy. She seemed smart. She seemed kind.

Maybe he had been wrong about them being cursed. Tawnypelt rose, with Rowanclaw, burying the bones of their breakfast, before they headed out of the front entrance. Tawnypelt brushed tails with Tallpoppy as she passed.

“Riverclan or Windclan border then?” Rowanclaw asked.

“Riverclan,” she answered.

“You know Blackstar hates it when you mark borders,” he sighed.

“Well, he better get used to it. Eventually he will realize that my scent is the same as the rest of Shadowclan, and even Thunderclan respects my scent markers as much as they do anyone else’s.” She  paused, “That is to say, not at all.”

Rowanclaw snorted, “If that ain’t the truth.”

“I don’t know what he thinks will happen,” Tawnypelt sighed, the frustration in her voice tangible.

“He thinks Brambleclaw will just wander right into Shadowclan territory with Hawkfrost while they're sneaking around by the lake because they're too stupid to tell your smell from their own,” Rowanclaw laughed.

“Brambleclaw isn't stupid,” Tawnypelt tutted, then paused to leap onto a log that blocked the path.

“You called him an idiot just yesterday, my love,” Rowanclaw said as he joined her on the log. Tawnypelt’s tail flicked in irritation.

“Well, yes. That's because he… was being an idiot.”

“What was he doing?” Rowanclaw asked, “Did he cross the border to talk to you after all?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said, leaping down from the log to continue towards the border, “It… I don’t think I should say.”

“You don't?” Rowanclaw asked, “Why not?”

“Well, it's… a bit strange.”

“Try me.”

“I saw him in… a dream.”

“A dream?” Rowanclaw asked, tilting his head to the side, “are you feeling homesick?”

“Not for Thunderclan,” Tawnypelt snorted, “No, it wasn't that kind of dream- it was the- the… the starclan kind.”

Rowanclaw gasped. “He died?!”

“No!” cried Tawnypelt, the fur on her spine raising in alarm, “At least, I don't think so. I think we were both their in our dreams. Only it wasn't… right. I just…” she seemed conflicted. “He’s being stupid, and making bad decisions. I think it's because he misses me.”

Tadpole felt guilty, suddenly. Was Brambleclaw in the dark forest with their father just so he could spend time with Hawkfrost? Had losing his sister left a hole that could be filled only with a other sibling? He was doing the same thing, following Tawnypelt around because he was afraid to see his littermates again.

“He's always been a bit rash,” Rowanclaw said. Tawnypelt nodded, looking a bit crestfallen.

“I want him to be okay. Even if he is in another clan, I want him to be okay. He's still my brother. But I think sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes without you.”

Rowanclaw was silent for a moment. “Sometimes,” he said. “But sometimes making mistakes alone just leads to more mistakes.”

Tawnypelt was quiet, too, before she resumed walking. “Perhaps you’re right. But my loyalty is to Shadowclan, and if Brambleclaw’s soul needs saving, it can't be me this time. Someone else will have to take that job.”

It felt as if a stone had pierced his heart, as if suddenly he had been opened by sharp claws. It wasn't too late. He had turned away from the Dark Forest. His brothers could too. It was never too late. Someone had to be their for them. A brother.

He spent only a moment more watching Tawnypelt and Rowanclaw pad toward Riverclan border at a leisurely morning pace, before he dug his claws into the soil and took off, racing past them, and away.


	9. Chapter 9

He should have known the moment he set foot in the forest that these were different trees and a different sky. The scent of Riverclan surrounded Tadpole as he streamed past the scent marker, the scent of home with none of the landmarks. Unfamiliar trees waved in the breeze, beckoning him onward toward Riverclan's camp, nestled between two streams beneath the v where they split from one.

He passed through the reeds as if they were not there and stood in the center, taking it in.

It was strange to see- all the elements from the old Riverclan camp, but shaped entirely differently. Nests and dens were still woven from reeds and set into the mud, but the layout was completely different. It felt alien to be here, uncomfortable, not the grand return to familiarity and comfort he had anticipated, but his home was wherever his family was, and his family- his family was here.

Hawkfrost.

He was sitting between two dens, probably the warrior and apprentice dens, his tail lashing. He was bigger, somehow- he had always taken after their mother, and despite his relatively short height his pelt rippled with lean muscles, and his long face was crumpled into an expression of resentment. Tadpole followed his eyes to where Hawkfrost was glaring, and saw Stormfur and a brown she-cat he didn't know sitting beside the fresh kill pile and talking. Tadpole twitched his whiskers and cocked his head.

“What could possibly have made you so angry at  _ him _ , little brother?” Tadpole asked as he padded over to sit beside the brown tom.  “Nevermind. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Tadpole sighed as Hawkfrost sniffed and finally broke his gaze away from Stormfur and the brown tabby, tucking his legs beneath his chest as he bent down to rest in the weak sunlight.

“The world must be so large out there, beyond the forest. This one, the other one. Maybe beyond all the forests. Hard to say, huh?” Tadpole looked down. “I wonder what of it you saw while I was away? How much did I miss? Have you grown up without me in more ways than one? I missed you. This time-” He rested a paw on or in Hawkfrost's shoulder and imagined he could feel his fur beneath the pads of his foot- “I won't go anywhere you can't follow. Never again.”

Hawkfrost stood up and stretched with a yawn, flexing his claws against the mud before he turned to look at the medicine den, where Mothwing was emerging, fresh and ready for the morning. Tadpole smiled. He had missed her, too.

“Mothwing,” Hawkfrost said, and she turned toward him, her ears perking up, “would you take a walk with me? I want to talk to you.”

Mothwing looked surprised. Tadpole felt a twinge where his gut should have been. Mothwing looked around for a moment, as if she were searching for an excuse to decline, but clearly found none, because she faced him again.

“...Alright,” she said, hesitantly, before falling in line beside them as Hawkfrost steered her outside of camp and along the bank of the river. Tadpole fell in between them, looking up as they both stared awkwardly ahead, not facing one another.

“Seems unfair to me that we should let a traitor and some rogue into Riverclan just because they showed up,” Hawkfrost said gruffly after some time had passed, his paw steps heavy. Mothwing shrugged, still not making eye contact.

“We always need more warriors,” she said, noncommittally.

“ _ Loyal _ warriors,” Hawkfrost responded sharply, “Stormfur has already left Riverclan once, and for a girl no less. It's only fair to expect he'll do it again if it suits him.”

“Maybe,” Mothwing said, staring forward to where the trees parted at the end of the river.

“And Brook, she's not a clan cat at all. She didn't grow up here.”

“Neither did we,” Mothwing mumbled. Hawkfrost hissed at her and Tadpole flinched.

“We chose our clan. She's just here because it's convenient, and she'll leave as soon as a better option presents itself. We have enough trouble feeding our own kits and elders, we shouldn't be supporting some drifters as well.” They stopped walking and Hawkfrost stared at her intensely for a moment, before his shoulders relaxed, and he sighed. “Come on.”

Hawkfrost moved forward and nosed the brush aside, pushing past a bramble and onto the bank of a massive lake, surrounded on all sides by trees and moors. Mothwing followed him through and Tadpole froze in shock, his jaw hanging open. Had that been here the whole time?

He stepped through the brush, the leaves passing through him, and onto the sandy beach, his feet claw deep in pebbles, gazing out over the glassy mirror of the lake. When he looked down, he wasn't surprised to see that he could not see himself, only the depths of cold, dark water. He felt his skin crawling beneath his pelt and stepped back and away, to where his siblings had sat down.

They both appeared to be pretending to admire the lake view as well, but clearly were equally distracted. Tadpole yearned desperately to intervene, to stop this before Hawkfrost got to whatever point he was trying to make.

“You're going to tell Leopardstar you've been sent a sign that Stormfur and Brook have to leave,” Hawkfrost said flatly, after a moment. Tadpole felt his heart stop- and then wondered if it had ever been going in the first place.

“I-” Mothwing stammered, gasping, “I can't do that.”

“You've lied before. It's no different.”

“This is so much worse than anything else you've made me do-” she started to say, and Hawkfrost snorted.

“I haven't  _ made _ you do anything. I offered you a choice. Do what's right for Riverclan and prove you are the right cat for medicine cat, or don't, and lose that position. It's your decision. I don't have my teeth in your throat,” he said dismissively. Mothwing's legs were shaking.

“You're asking me to make them homeless- Stormfur was in Riverclan when we first came here, and he's always been kind to us- I-” she tensed her claws against the pebbles, staring downward, before she snapped her head up, pinpricks of tears in her eyes, “I won't do it. Not this time.”

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes with a sneer, “Not this time? Not  _ this  _ time? You think you have morals? You think it's okay to let your clanmates continue believing their Gods gave you their blessing but not that two outsiders should leave? That's where you draw the line?” His tail lashed as he stood, and Mothwing shrunk away, hunching her shoulders and flattening her ears.

“You've always been weak, too cowardly to do the right thing. If you were the only one providing Riverclan with moral guidance we never would have made it to the lake in the first place. Your spinelessness would see every single one of our clanmates over a cliff if you had your way, you'll see us all starve because you're too frightened to tell a traitor and a rogue they can't gorge themselves on our generosity any lo-”

“Okay!” She cried, gasping for breath. Tears were streaming down her face, mussing up her fur. “Okay, I- I'll do it. Please. Just, please.” She tucked her tail over her feet. “Don't tell.”

Hawkfrost sat back down, relaxing his posture and raising his chin, “Why would I? You're a good medicine cat, Mothwing, and you and I have our clanmates best interests at heart. It's in everyone's best interest you retain your position. So,” he said, plucking two stones from the ground with his claws, “I was thinking that, perhaps, you might say a stream appeared in your den, and two stones tumbled down it, then became stuck and blocked the water from continuing down it's path. I feel like that should be overt enough not to be misinterpreted, but flowery enough to be believable. Yes?”

Mothwing was silent, staring at her feet with wide eyes that continued to pour tears out of them.

“Yes?” Hawkfrost said again, leaning forward. There was an edge to his voice- a dangerous, threatening edge.

“ _Yes_ ,” Mothwing responded, finally, in a small, choked voice. Hawkfrost leaned back, seemingly satisfied. He let the stones slide from his paw and back to the ground.

“That's all. I hope to hear an announcement from Leopardstar by nightfall. Have a nice morning, Mothwing,” he said as he stood and turned away, pushing back into the bramble. Tadpole did not follow him.

He stood frozen, as if time and space moved around him. Who was that that had just yelled at Mothwing, who was now bent double, openly sobbing? Surely that was not his brother, little Hawk who he had died saving. His brother would never have treated their sister so horribly.

And yet that _thing_ had his brothers voice, his brothers face. He looked at Mothwing. Was this her life now, in the wake of him? Living in fear of what their brother had turned himself into? That wasn't living. He would know.

“Who are you?” Tadpole asked to no one in particular, as his sister continued to cry.

She did, indeed, announce her vision later that day. Their clanmates seemed uncertain, which only made Hawkfrost angrier, more bitter. It wasn't until Brook nearly got hit by a monster and a few choice words from his brother that Leopardstar gave in and banished her, and Stormfur as well after Hawkfrost goaded him into attacking him. Tadpole couldn't help but relate. As time moved without him, the itch to claw some sense into his brother grew.

 

* * *

 

The day was waning into orange when Hawkfrost slipped out of camp. Tadpole had taken to spending his time with Mothwing, hoping against hope she could feel his presence and receive some sort of solace from it, but Hawkfrost never went hunting at this time of day- all he did was sneak away to conspire with other warriors, from Shadowclan, from Thunderclan. Tadpole narrowed his eyes, fur bristling, wondering what nastiness he was up to now. He stood, shaking off the imaginary mud, and left Mothwing silently sorting herbs. He looked back at her sadly as he left the medicine den- she looked so alone, so beaten down.

Hawkfrost didn't even look back as he crossed the border into Thunderclan territory, keeping to the treeline near the edge of the lake at a healthy trot.

The trees parted to a gentle clearing that opened into a sandy pit beside the water, and Hawkfrost looked around before stepping forward to sniff at a grassy knoll with some kind of shiny rod jutting out of it. Hawkfrost seemed especially interesting in a thin vine looped around the top, and Tadpole inspected it curiously. It looked like some kind of twoleg thing.

“Hey, you're here.” Tadpole looked up to see a Thunderclan cat poke his head from the brush. He was grey, with darker flecks, and Tadpole had seen Hawkfrost meet with him a few times at the border, always in the dead of night.

“I said I would be,” Hawkfrost responded, sitting up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” said the Thunderclan cat, “Are you?”

“A Riverclan cat is always ready,” Hawkfrost responded coolly. The Thunderclan cat snorted.

“I'll go get Firestar. I expect to be back before the sun falls below the mountains. I can't buy you much time after that.”

“I won't need much,” Hawkfrost said, flexing his claws, “I expect everything to go according to plan.”

“I'm betting on it,” said the Tom, before he turned and disappeared into the forest at a gallop. Hawkfrost wrapped his tail around his legs and sat back, waiting.

“What are you doing here, Hawkfrost?” Tadpole asked.

“The better question,” a gruff, unfamiliar voice said behind Tadpole, and he turned to see the red glowing, translucent form of a battle scarred brown tabby with his sister's eyes, “is what are  _you_  doing here Tadpole?”

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

“Tigerstar,” Tadpole said, his mouth going completely dry.

The brown tabby chuckled, “So you do know who I am.” He stepped forward, toward him, “I suppose your mother told you about me, then?”

“My mother told me you were a monster,” he said, voice shaking, “you look like my sister.”

Tigerstar sneered, “If only the resemblance was more than skin deep. So? What are you, then? Are you my son, or hers?”

“My mother's,” he said without pausing. Tigerstar laughed.

"As I expected. I won't do you the disservice of offering you power you don't have the stomach for, then.” Tigerstar's orange eyes darted over to the brush as flame coloured cat- Firestar- came bursting through the branches.

Tadpoles entire being recoiled when the loop of the twoleg vine snagged around the Thunderclan leader's neck and he  _ snapped _ downward. The sound he made was horrific, something from deep within, and Tadpole felt the urge to claw his flesh off to stop it from crawling.

Hawkfrost stared down at the leader, pleased.

Tadpole snapped his head back to Tigerstar, “What's going on?!”

“Your brothers are going to be the leaders of their clans,” Tigerstar replied, watching Hawkfrost as he placed a paw on the gasping orange cat as he thrashed desperately in the vine. “This is the moment their future begins.”

It felt to tadpole as if the ground had fallen away and then rushed up to meet him suddenly, and his legs wobbled.

“He's going to kill Firestar so that Brambleclaw will be leader of Thunderclan,” he said.

“And when the time is right, Brambleclaw will help remove Leopardstar from the picture, leaving Hawkfrost in charge of Riverclan. If Tawnypelt had any sense, she'd accept my help and be leading Shadowclan by now.” He flicked his tail, “Windclan will be no problem to simply take, especially after their little civil disagreement. Your brothers have done very well for themselves. I wonder what you might have done, had you not believed foolishly that self sacrifice was worthwhile.” Tadpole felt his stomach flip and his fur bristle.

“I did the right thing,” he snapped.

“And how has doing the right thing turned out for you?” Tigerstar laughed, “Do you feel satisfied? Have you been lauded for your martyrdom? Or forgotten by all but your siblings?” He shook his head. “Soon, you'll be forgotten even by them, and vanish entirely.”

Tadpole looked back at Firestar, who was beginning to still, “They would never forget me.”

“You give them far too much credit,” Tigerstar smirked.

“I can see why my mother left you,” Tadpole snapped. Tigerstar’s smirk faded immediately.

“Enough. He's coming.”

Tadpole looked back up as the leaves parted one final time, and Brambleclaw stepped through. His face went through a journey of expressions- surprise, confusion, alarm, anger.

“Hawkfrost? What is this?!” Brambleclaw cried, his tail fluffed.

“A gift,” Hawkfrost said with the coolness of someone who had practiced, “For you.”

“I- I don't understand,” said Brambleclaw, his eyes darting down to Firestar, who was breathing shallowly.

“Of course you do,” Hawkfrost purred, standing, “it's everything you've ever wanted. All you have to do is kill him a few times, and you'll be leader of Thunderclan. Isn't that what you wanted?”

“It- yes...” he said, trailing off, eyes still transfixed on Firestar.

There was a moment of tense silence. Tadpole couldn't believe it.

“Don't,” Tadpole said, his voice hoarse with horror, “don't do it.”

“You know he can't hear you,” Tigerstar commented flatly as Tadpole stepped forward, ignoring him.

“This isn't you Brambleclaw. I know you- I've met you through the hearts of those who love you, and this isn't who you are.”

“I said, he can't hear you!” Tigerstar growled, sounding irritated, “be quiet!”

“Tawnypelt believes in you,  _ I  _ believe in you. You're a good cat, Brambleclaw!” He cried, bounding over to stand between his brothers.

Brambleclaw's head shot up suddenly, as if something had just come over him, and he locked eyes with Hawkfrost.

“No. This isn't me. I'm a good cat, Hawkfrost. I would never betray my leader.”

Hawkfrost hissed, “Pathetic!”

“You're right. I am pathetic, for ever thinking you had my best interests at heart. We're done, Hawkfrost,” Brambleclaw said sharply, moving to grab the metal rod with his jaws.

“Fine!” Hawkfrost shrieked, “Plan B, then!”

With that, he threw himself at Brambleclaw and they went tumbling into the sand, a flurry of claws and fur. Tadpole felt his claws sink instinctively into the ground. What could he do?

“You really don't know when to quit, do you?” Tigerstar's voice snarled, significantly closer than it had been before. Tadpole turned around, just in time to be cuffed across the face and go sprawling into the sand as well.

He struggled to sit back up. He didn't weigh very much and he'd tumbled quite a bit, and his head was spinning. Tigerstar was approaching again, though, lumbering on legs like tree trunks. Tadpole hissed, arching his back.

“If you're so certain you won't be forgotten,” Tigerstar said, unsheathing his long, dark claws, “I'll just help things along.”

Tadpole was prepared this time, though, and as Tigerclaw struck downward at him he shot forward, raking his claws upward along Tigerstar's belly. It felt like mush beneath his paw, like slick, rotten meat. Tigerstar snarled, whirling around as Tadpole ran back to Firestar.

"I can help you,” he said, harried, looking at the metal pin in the ground, “I'm not letting Brambleclaw life with your death. I can do this. I know I can do this.” He took a deep breath, and leaned forward, willing his teeth to clamp down on the pin.

Before he could, though, something had picked him up and thrown him again, but much further this time. He soared through the air and through a tree he suspected would have seriously hurt to have struck, and went sprawling into the ground, gasping for breath. When he looked up, blearily, the first thing he saw was orange.

_ Mapleshade. _

“Took you long enough,” Tigerstar grumbled as he touched a paw to his belly and looked at it, inspecting it for blood. He seemed unimpressed and returned his paw to the ground. mapleshade continued to stare at him, gaze unbroken.

Tadpole looked back and forth between the two ghosts, and then to Firestar. He still wasn't able to see him glowing, or his outline like he could before he had gone to the Dark Forest. Was he still alive?

“Don't even think about it,” she whispered, and his gaze snapped away from Firestar and back to her, tensing his muscles, “I taught you everything you know.”

“I know so much more than what you taught me” he replied. Firestar suddenly gasped and jerked again in the trap, and he set his jaw as he saw Mapleshade's eyes dart to the pin. She'd been dead much longer than him.

He wondered what he should do. What would happen if he were to be forgotten? What happens when a ghost dies? What would happen to Brambleclaw if Firestar died? What would happen to Mothwing if Hawkfrost wasn't stopped soon? What would happen to him if he just walked away?

His feet moved before he'd even made a decision, but there'd never been one to make. The pin gleamed in the light as he approached, not in time to grab it, but fast enough to leap into the air and smash his full wait into Tigerstar's jaw as he tried to close it on the pin to pull it together.

Tigerstar's head snapped to the side with an audible thwip, and Tadpole landed on his feet, unsheathing his claws.

“Bring it on!” He screamed, standing between Tigerstar and Firestar, tail lashing madly.

“So be it, then,” Tigerstar spat, and raised one massive, bear like paw to strike.

From behind him, there was a brilliant blue white glow, and with the brilliance of all the stars in silverpelt, a cat raced past him and locked his jaws onto Tigerstar's leg, wrenching him to the side and over into a surprised tumble.

He recognized that cat.  _ Firestar _ .

Tadpole turned around. “Oh, Starclan, no-” he wailed- but Firestar was still breathing, if shallowly. He knitted his brows together in confusion.

“Don't worry about it,” Firestar panted, and Tadpole turned back to face him, “I've got four more.”

“Oh,” Tadpole breathed, “ _ Oh. _ ”

Suddenly, the clearing exploded.

Tadpole felt himself gasping for breath, reeling from shock as from the shadows between the trees, red outlined spirits came pouring out and slammed into cats with glittering pelts of stars set in white fire as they emerged from behind him. He was surrounded by snarls, vicious yowls and caterwauls. Tadpole felt his undersized limbs shaking as he spun around, looking for Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw.

They were still fighting, near Firestar's body. Hawkfrost had Brambleclaw pinned against the dirt and was snapping at him, trying to clamp his jaws around the Thunderclan cat's throat.

He had to push his way through throngs of legs, all cats bigger than him, fighting and ignoring him as they tore into each other. He saw tigerstar and firestar's shimmering forms pacing back and forth, eyeing each other as they aimed for a move, and shouldered a white Starclan she cat who was clawing at the pelt of a grey Dark Forest tom out of his way, only to be tripped and slam face first into the earth when an errand kick caught him in the side.

“Hawkfrost!” He called, desperate, but Hawkfrost could not hear him, and over the din of battle he could barely hear himself.

Hawkfrost shifted his paw and slammed it into the inside of Brambleclaw's shoulder and his head reared back as he cried out in pain, exposing the soft flesh of his throat. Hawkfrost opened his jaws wide, his eyes glinting in the sunset.

Tadpole felt overcome. All of the grief he had ever felt for his own death he had been unable to prevent, the lives he had watched lost, the people he had been unable to touch. This one thing, he desperately wanted, of all things that could happen and had happened, to not let this one thing come to be. He felt that desire surge through his vessels like real blood, like a living thing filled with adrenaline and determination and he dug his claws into the ground and  _ screamed. _

“ _ STOP! _ ”

The clearing was silent. For just a moment, tadpole felt he was alone, that there were no Starclan or dark forest ghosts around him. Just him, and his brothers. Hawkfrost looked up at him.

And then the moment ended, with a sputtering shriek of agony as Brambleclaw grabbed the pin securing the shiny wire to Firestar from the ground and slammed it into Hawkfrost's throat. It jutted grotesquely through the other side of his neck, dripping blood onto his back.

Hawkfrost stumbled a few steps back, looking down and staring at the pin sticking out of his throat like A tree from the ground. Tadpole felt himself choking on a sob, his shoulders shaking.

The cats around him paused, surprised.

“No!” Snarled Tigerstar, “You've ruined everything!” Tadpole turned around, expecting his father to be yelling at him- but it was Hawkfrost he was looking at.

The Dark Forest cats all turned and fled into the shadows, yowled after by jeering Starclan cats, and Hawkfrost stumbled toward the water, blindly pawing at the stones below his feet for purchase he couldn't seem to find. Tadpole clambered to his feet and ran to him.

“Hawkfrost-” he choked, his throat tight, “Hawk, please.”

Hawkfrost didn’t appear to see him, now, though. He collapsed forward into the shallows of the lake, gurgling on blood and water, legs twitching as if he were still trying to walk.

Tadpole raised a paw to step toward him, when Hawkfrost's outline began to shimmer.

From his now stilled body, a misty vision of his brother rose, as if waking from a long slumber. He placed his paws down, standing over his body, staring at it, before he turned, and faced Tadpole.

Tadpole felt frozen stiff and solid. So many years now he had waited for this moment, agonized over it in his mind, played out this scene over and over and over until he could not bear to think of it again.

Hawkfrost didn't move.

“It's you,” he said, at last.

“It's me,” Tadpole said hoarsely.

“How much do you know?” Hawkfrost said, and Tadpole thought he detected fear, or guilt maybe, in his voice.

Tadpole swallowed, and stood as tall as his tiny body could, digging his claws into the moist soil, “ _ Everything _ .”

There was a long moment of silence. Hawkfrost looked around Tadpole and behind him, at the Starclan cats who were standing silent audience to this.

“Fair enough,” said Hawkfrost, as he dipped his head. He turned back toward the lake. 

"You don't have to go!" Tadpole called.

He paused, but didn't look back. “If I stay another moment, I'll never leave.”

Tadpole felt his gut wrench. Hawkfrost stepped into the blood seeping into the lake from his body and downward into it, disappearing.

He was gone.

“Hawkfrost…” he whispered, and for a moment, Tadpole thought he must have a heart, for surely it was breaking. He felt hollow, torn asunder, cast into the wind. He was gone. He was gone.

“Tadpole,” a voice said behind him. It was strange to hear his name spoken again, especially by a new voice. He turned, blinking blearily. It was Firestar, who was standing over his own body as Brambleclaw crawled to him, desperately uncoiling the vine from his throat.

“Firestar?” He said, uncertainly.

“Thank you.” He said with a smile, and his outline suddenly went blurry, before his body gasped for a breath suddenly, spasming. Tadpole looked up at the other Starclan cats, watching him.

“We've been watching you,” said a silver grey she-cat who reminded him of Feathertail.

“You have?” He asked, uncertainly.

“And waiting for you,” said an old, battle scarred grey she-cat with yellow teeth.

“You've been alone for long enough,” said a blue-grey cat with a scar on her shoulder, “you've earned your place as a Warrior.”

Tadpole felt his legs tremble as he stepped forward. “You're serious? You mean it?”

“If you're ready,” said the white she-cat he'd tripped over earlier, standing beside the blue-grey cat.

Tadpole paused. “I can't leave Mothwing…”

“Oh, Tadpole,” said a voice he had imagined hearing again every night he had dared allow himself to remember it, “you won't be leaving her. You'll see her again someday.”

Sasha stepped forward from the throng of starry cats, her coat glossy and glowing, looking younger and healthier than he had ever once seen her alive.

“Mama-” he stammered.

“I've missed you so much, Tadpole,” she said, her eyes beginning to water. “It's time for you to come home.”

Tadpole took a step forward, and then two, and then ran into his mother's waiting embrace, collapsing into the warmth of her fur and the sweet smell of her and every other smiling cat around him, patting him on the back and welcoming him to Starclan, all here, present, real. Love radiated from her as if she were a glowing star set into silverpelt just for him.

He pulled back, tears streaming down his face, and he reached a paw up to wipe them away, only to freeze and stare at it. This was not a kit's soft, tiny paw, but an adult's- riddled with stars and white fire.

He looked back up at Sasha, who was gesturing toward the sky, where some cats had already begun climbing back up to, along an dimly lit glowing path, back to the stars and endless newleaf hunting, sunshine and new friends.

“I'm coming!” He said, bounding after her, and away from the scene below, where blood had spilled blood, and the lake had run red. The path was clear, the stars welcoming him home.


End file.
